


Do we have a deal?

by Angel10242



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, HEA (of course), HP: EWE, Humour, Post-Deathly Hallows, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-04-17 16:36:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4673789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel10242/pseuds/Angel10242
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"For that, Professor, I would owe you, considerably. And I know Slytherins don't like to leave debts hanging so I'd have to think of something of equal value to offer you. Although I don't know what I could do in return…" </p>
<p>Severus Snape has some suggestions!</p>
<p>A sweet post war SSHG tale of balls and bedrooms</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from my ff.net account.
> 
> All characters etc belong to JKR - I own nothing but the storyline.

Even with the benefit of hindsight, Severus Snape had trouble working out exactly how he got to where he was. Not that he was complaining…

It all started during the long summer after the war. Hogwarts was being rebuilt and the order and half the teaching staff had decamped to Grimmauld Place for the interim. Severus had ended up there by accident really. The only way they would let him leave St Mungos after the final battle was in to the care of a fully qualified healer. He immediately volunteered Poppy Pomfrey’s services, figuring that she owed him a favour or two and wouldn’t mind. He was right, she didn’t. Alas, he hadn’t taken into account the fact that with the school out of service she too was temporarily without a home and had taken up residence in the old Black Mansion after Harry Potter had extended an open invitation to all the Hogwarts residents.

Severus had his own place - Spinner’s End, up near Manchester - but Poppy had rejected the idea of moving up there with him before he’d even managed to vocalise it. Basically, it was Grimmauld Place, or St Mungos. Given the fidelis charm was still active on the mansion and the hospital was swarming with reporters, Snape gave in grumpily to the more private of the two evils.

To his relief the occupants were mainly off out and about during the day and only got together for the evening meal, frequently supplemented with other Order members who dropped in for dinner. A lifetime of dining in the Great Hall had trained him to bear communal eating. In actual fact, once he was well enough to participate, he found he rather enjoyed the evenings spent around the battered kitchen table discussing the rebuilding of the school with Minerva, or listening to Kingsley Shacklebolt’s tales of his time with the muggle Prime Minister. Now the war was over the atmosphere was easy and people lingered, relaxing over a glass of wine or a hot mug of tea. Even the golden trio, all residents themselves, had migrated from infantile terrors to mere irritants in Severus’s eyes now they were grown up.

Along with the rebuilding of the school, all the occupants were involved in what seemed to be endless social events and parties celebrating the end of the war. As members of the Order of the Phoenix, as well as key participants in the downfall of the Dark Lord, they were obligated to show up, smile and speak about their experiences to the general public and ensure the key messages got heard - yes Voldemort was definitely dead this time; yes the new ministry supported equal rights for all, regardless of birth; no the boy-who-lived and who had survived the killing curse again was not a zombie, a vampire, or any other Dark creature.

One of the first things Minerva had done after her arrival was to set up a rota for attendance from the Order. This ensured all the important parties had representation - good PR being just as essential post war as it had been during - without it becoming too much of a burden on any one person. Unsurprisingly Severus _detested_ attending the public events with all the groupies fawning all over him. He attended sullenly in his usual black robes and usually ensured he was left alone with a couple of devastatingly biting comments made very loudly and publicly to whichever fool was first to approach him, and then by dint of a full-force scowl at anyone who dared to get within 6 foot of him the rest of the evening.

It was after one such event that the conversation that changed _everything_ occurred.

Somehow Miss Granger had ended up on the same rota pattern as Severus and they had just returned from the third occasion that week, not that anyone else had a less strenuous timetable at present.

First had been a morning tea on the Monday with the WI - the _Witches Institute_ \- consisting of delicate sandwiches, divine cakes, and a presentation by Miss Granger entitled ‘Hunting horcruxes and defeating a Dark Lord - a witch’s perspective’. Severus had sat at a table full of admiring older women who all tried to mother him with varying degrees of subtlety whilst he ignored them, drank earl grey tea and ate the lightest victoria sponge sandwich he’d ever tried. All things considered, it wasn’t bad; and he’d even admitted to Granger after they’d got back to Grimmauld Place that her presentation had been mildly interesting.

Then had come Wednesday and the annual Animagi conference, where they had both sat on a panel with Minerva answering questions from the floor on the future of the wizarding world. Tedious to a fault, especially as he was called on frequently to contribute his opinion. Minerva had already threatened to turn him into an actual bat as part of her demonstration if he didn’t behave, so he was forced to tone down his sarcasm and actually answer a proportion of the asinine questions directed at him.

The final engagement for the week had been the Saturday evening ball by the _Association of magical shopkeepers_ at which Longbottom, Hestia Jones, Granger and he had been forced to smile (or in his case scowl) as the ballroom full of Diagon Alley’s finest applauded them for defeating the Dark Lord, before being subjected to endless requests for dances.

It was the dancing that had clearly driven Miss Granger to distraction. Severus himself had danced with both Hestia Jones and Miss Granger once each for propriety’s sake, then retreated to a dark corner with a glass of wine, cast _notice me not_ charms and sat reading a book he had secreted into his pocket for the evening. Once his wand chimed to remind him it was midnight he shrank the book, removed the charm and headed back to the dance floor where he collected the remaining order members under the premise that they were required to floo back together for security reasons. The grateful looks they had all shot him when he swept into view - even Longbottom - told him everything he needed to know about the evening he had opted out of.

Once back at Grimmauld Place Severus had wandered into the library to return the book he had borrowed and spent a pleasant few minutes choosing his next read from the shelves. Someone had supplemented the old Black library with a selection of brand new books on a wide variety of topics that he was enjoying working through. He hadn’t had much time in the last couple of years for reading for anything other than work - be that School, Order or Death Eater - so it was an absolute pleasure to immerse himself in a book for no reason other than idle curiosity.

Book chosen - _Creative Charms for Arithmancy Conundrums_ \- he headed into the kitchen. To his surprise it was still occupied by Miss Granger, who was sitting at the table with a pot of tea and a book of her own.

She looked up as he stepped into the room and inclined her head in greeting. “Tea?” She asked, and when he nodded she flicked her wand to summon a cup and saucer from the cupboard before sliding across the tray with the tea pot and accompaniments to where he sat opposite her. While he busied himself pouring a cup and adding milk and sugar she flexed her bare feet with a groan.

“Merlin, if I had a galleon for every time my feet got trodden on this evening I’d never have to work again!” She commented wryly.

“Why do you allow them to do it? I neither had my feet stood on, nor did I trample on any delicate toes. It can be done, Miss Granger, with the right attitude.”

“Yeah, that and dragon-hide boots,” she muttered under her breath sullenly, looking between his securely shod feet and the delicate open-toed sandals she’d abandoned on the floor with obvious envy.

Severus took a sip of tea, pausing in appreciation of the strong brew. No watery earl-grey here - muggle yorkshire teabags graced the kitchens at Grimmauld Place, and he personally thought the house much better for it. “What you need, Miss Granger, is an escort to keep the bumbling masses at bay.”

“Oh yes,” she replied dreamily, “a knight in shining armour, or at least decent dress robes, able to hold an intelligent conversation, dance with me without mangling my toes, and intimidating enough to put off anyone else thinking of asking me… if only such a man existed.” She smiled up at him, inviting him to share in her joke.

“What about Mr Weasley? Or..” He shuddered, “Longbottom?”

Miss Granger winced. “Neville is a shocking dancer - being partnered with him all night would guarantee bruised toes no matter how many shield charms I cast on them. And Ron would be most put out that my presence would limit his opportunities for chatting up all his groupies. Besides, we shared a tent for a year. Trust me, there is not even a smidgeon of romantic feeling between us after that.”

He wasn’t sure what made him make the offer. In his defence it was late and he was feeling mellow after having successfully circumnavigated the worst effects of the evening without censure.

“I don’t know about the knight bit, but I could certainly assist in keeping the hoards from you at our next event, Miss Granger.”

She looked up at him with shining eyes, “You’d do that? Stay around all evening and act as my escort?”

“Really, you should know by now I detest repeating myself,” he replied dryly. “Yes, I will act as your escort at these cursed war events where we are both obligated to attend.”

“For that, Professor, I would owe you, considerably. And I know Slytherins don’t like to leave debts hanging so I’d have to think of something of equal value to offer you. Although I don’t know what I could do in return… it’s not as if you need a lab assistant at present.” She frowned in contemplation.

“Indeed, Miss Granger, war heroes such as myself want for little in the way of fame or fortune,” he replied sardonically, and was rewarded with a swift grin from her. “In fact,” he continued, “All I want for in life, apart from the restoration of my potions lab at the school and a life without ever having to hear the words ‘war hero’ ever again, is a willing witch to warm my bed at night.” He smirked, thinking himself very witty.

Granger looked at him thoughtfully, then replied, “Yes, ok.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Yes, I’ll ‘warm your bed’ for you in return for your protection at these godawful events.”

His mind blanked in shock and he reflexively took another sip of tea then choked when he realised it was stone cold. “You, _Hermione Granger,_ darling of the wizarding world, with young and handsome would-be suitors by the dozen, want to sleep with me in return for favours. I have to say, you never struck me as someone with so few morals.” He replied disapprovingly, looking her up and down.

She merely laughed, a gloriously sunny peal totally out of place in the cold dark kitchen, and reached out to touch his hand where it rested on the table. “Professor, I would hope you knew me well enough by now to know I’m not some loose woman shagging all and sundry! If you want me, and I want to show my appreciation for your help physically then what’s the problem?”

“The _problem_ , Miss Granger, aside from the obvious facts that I’m your former teacher and old enough to be your father, is that you have absolutely no idea what you are getting into. You can’t just offer a blanket proposal like that! Surely you of all people are aware of the reputation of Death Eaters - I fear I must remind you that I did join willingly even if I switched allegiances later on.”

She stood and walked over to the other side of the table where he was sitting and thrust out a hand as if to shake his. He looked at it in bemusement.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing now Miss Granger?”

“Introducing myself. Have you met me? In case you’ve forgotten… Hi, I’m Hermione Granger, well known for being a Gryffindor know-it-all with insatiable curiosity about anything and everything, for being outspoken and unwilling to lie, and for never hesitating once in the last seven years of your classes to ever hold my tongue if I disagreed with you, no matter what the consequences in terms of point loss, detention and mortal peril.”

“Your point?” He sneered.

“If you suggest something I don’t want to do Professor, I’ll tell you, and I won’t do it. I’m not pledging my unending servitude or anything, just a willingness to sleep with you and have a bit of fun. Besides, you’ve no idea what kind of thing I like to get up to in bed.” She ended, with a saucy wink, putting her hand back down.

For a long moment there was quiet as she padded back to her chair in her bare feet and sat back down and they both stared at their teacups. Finally, Miss Granger broke the silence;

“So… do we have a deal?”


	2. Chapter 2

Despite her outward bravado, Hermione’s insides were churning with nerves as she contemplated her cup.  It wasn’t like her to be impulsive, and in saying yes to Professor Snape’s suggestion she had surprised herself almost as much as him. ‘ _Merlin!_ ’ she thought, ‘ _I_ ’ _m not entirely sure how I got here, but I don_ ’ _t want to mess this up now._ ’

 

Not that she regretted it. No, she was aware enough of her own sexuality and the responses of those around her to recognise that there was a mutual attraction between them.  She’d no idea what he saw in her, but she knew why she liked him.  Snape might not be conventionally attractive but she’d always been interested in men _despite_ rather than _because_ of their looks - Victor Krum was an excellent example.  The aura of power that surrounded her former Professor was _very_ attractive. No, it wouldn’t be a hardship on her part to fulfil her end of the deal. But would he go for it? She really did need an escort to save her from the worst of her prospective suitors at the blasted ministry events…

 

He was still sitting silently opposite her, contemplating her thoughtfully.  She sagged in disappointment, sure he was going to decline her.

 

“So. How would this work then?”  He sneered.  “I’m sure you’ve got it all planned out already, Miss Granger?”

 

She ducked her head and smiled swiftly in secret victory, unable to stop herself. If he was willing to discuss it then there was a fair chance he was interested. 

 

“Hardly, Professor, you were the one who suggested it after all.”  She paused to think.  “Well… from my perspective, at the obligatory events I’d like you to dance with me when I wish to dance unless I have another suitable partner, and to keep me company the rest of the time so I don’t have to deal with the idiots who usually approach me.  Of course, if you wish to dance with someone else as well I won’t stop you, but I would prefer you to spend the majority of the evening escorting me.  At least until the more persistent ones get the message that I’m not available.  For that…”  She paused again, unsure of how much to offer, given that he was a Slytherin and therefore well practiced in the art of getting the best out of any bargain.  “I’m not sure, Sir.  What would you want for that?”

 

Now _that_ was the question!  What did he want in return? 

 

“Let’s see Miss Granger. Not that I’ve agreed to this foolishness but… Hypothetically, for every evening I spend escorting you, I think I would like a corresponding amount of time spent with me doing what I please.”

 

“The same night?” She asked, curious.

 

He frowned and ran a finger around his teacup as he weighed up his options.  “No, not necessarily.  After all we’ve not been able to leave some of those damned events until the early hours of the morning. I’m an old man,” he smirked at her, “I need my sleep.”

 

She laughed, knowing full well that a wizard in his early forties was well within his prime.

 

“If I agreed,” he continued, his focus still fixed on the teacup in front of him, “What would be your limitations around our time together here?”

 

It was her turn to look away, slightly embarrassed.  “Well, Professor, I don’t know. How about we just see how we go? Like I said before, if you suggest something that I don’t want to do, I’ll tell you and we can negotiate.” 

 

“Ah, Miss Granger, but you see, that leaves me at a disadvantage,” he drawled.  “After all, how am I to know that after you’ve had agreement from me that you wouldn’t declare yourself unwilling to do more than sleep in my bed fully clothed? Thus answering to the letter if not the spirit of our agreement.”

 

She looked up at him with eyes flashing indignantly, finally able to make eye contact. “Professor, I would hope that you hadn’t spent the last seven years in my presence to think so little of my honour! I won’t slight you on this.  If you want it in bald terms then, I Hermione Granger, agree to have sexual intercourse with you, Severus Snape.”

 

He was amused to notice a faint blush spread across her cheeks as she continued, her voice soft now, “I’d have hoped Professor, that with a little consideration on both of our parts it might be fun for both of us.  I’ve no intention of acting like a martyr or lying back and thinking of England.  If we don’t find a mutually satisfying approach to our interactions in both the ballroom and the bedroom then I’ll call the whole thing off.”

 

It was her tone of shy hopefulness that convinced him more than her words. Besides, he did know her. She would be as irritatingly Gryffindorishly honest with this transaction as she was with all others.

 

“Although you raise a good point, Sir,” She looked up slyly, “How do I know you won’t change the rota so you aren’t attending the same events as me?  Maybe I need to be more explicit in my request too?”

 

He tried to look affronted but really he was too tired to make a real go of it, so he settled for a sneer.  It had been a long day and his - cold and empty - bed was calling to him.  “Don’t you trust me, Miss Granger?”

 

“Oh yes,” she replied, quick as a flash, “I trust you to make the best deal possible for yourself out of any negotiation.”

 

He smirked.

 

“In fact, Professor, I think we need some kind of contract. I’d hate for one of us to forget an important detail after all.”

 

“Miss Granger, not everything has to be written down and defined to the nth degree,” he said acidly, his voice rich with scorn.  “If it were up to you I’m sure it would be mapped on one of your infernal planners with the time allocated between foreplay, sex and an obligatory 3 minute cuddle afterwards. Heaven forbid we leave anything to chance.” 

 

He would have stood and made his exit then had he not seen the brief flash of hurt in her eyes and the way her shoulders slumped imperceptibly at his criticism. He didn’t really understand why.  After all, he’d been calling her an _insufferable know it all,_ and an _irritating chit_ since she was eleven.  Surely she was immune to his comments by now?

 

“Look, its late,” he offered in a conciliatory way, “Why don’t we both sleep on it and discuss this further tomorrow.  Things might look very different to you in the harsh light of day.”

 

She nodded, her shoulders still slumped.  Of course, he wasn’t to know how often the nasty teasing around the school had focused on her planner. She’d endured years of sitting in the library listening to groups of snickering adolescents making similar snide comments on how she would schedule a boyfriend in around her studies… that was, if anyone actually _wanted_ to date the straight-laced bookworm.  Still, this wasn’t school and she was a war hero now dammit - she _deserved_ some fun and if she wanted that to be with this man, then she was going to have it.  Taking a deep breath she made a conscious effort to put the hurt away. 

 

Her head came up and he was somewhat alarmed to see a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Professor…” she began.

 

He groaned inwardly, knowing full well that look boded him no good whatsoever. Flicking his hand to indicate she should continue he scowled at her, waiting to see what trouble she was about to incite. 

 

She got up from her chair and walked around the table back to where he was sitting until she stood as close as she could to his chair, leaning herself on the table in a faked casual pose.  He could hear her breathing, and smell a faint trace of the perfume she had worn for the evening. He pulled his chair away from the table in alarm at her predatory look and was about to get up and walk out when her hand on his shoulder stilled him. 

 

“No, stay there please Sir.  I was thinking, you and I are working on a lot of supposition right now. Would it be helpful to have some more evidence before we leave this for today?” Her voice was full of as much promise as she could manage, trying to hide her inexperience and discomfort behind a brash Gryffindor approach.

 

“What were you thinking, Miss Granger?” His tone was stiffly formal as he sat ramrod straight in his chair, arms crossed tightly across his chest, his unease coming off him in waves. 

 

Noticing this, she stepped away slightly to give him some space until he relaxed almost imperceptibly.

 

“A kiss.” She said simply.

 

“A kiss?” He was faintly incredulous. _She_ wanted to kiss _him_? Although given their proposed arrangement that would be just the tip of the iceberg, he supposed.

 

“Yes, one kiss.  To prove we don’t dislike the thought of touching each other, either on the dance floor or in the bedroom, and to see if there is enough of a spark to make this arrangement of ours a pleasant experience for us both.” She caught his eye shyly, all hints of attempted seductress gone, “Professor, please?”

 

He softened. He could read her easily and could see she was nowhere near as confident as she was trying to make out. Despite her sophisticated robes and touch of makeup she looked very young to him, standing barefoot in the kitchen with bubblegum-pink toenails, biting her lip.  No longer the child that had graced his classrooms, ‘ _Thank Merlin!_ ’But not exactly a woman yet either, despite the ravages of the war. ‘ _She_ ’ _s managed to retain an innocence about her.  No idea how given what she_ ’ _s seen and done._ ’Making the decision to humour her, he stifled yet another yawn as he reached out and pulled her onto his lap. 

 

“Professor!” She squeaked, surprised. She tried to stand up but the angle she’d fallen at left her off balance and unable to get up straight away.  She couldn’t help but notice in a distant part of her brain that squirming against him as she did felt rather good.   

 

“Come on then, pet,” he leered deliberately, as exaggeratedly lecherous as he could manage in his tired state, rearranging her until she was seated across him and wrapping his arms around her loosely, “I believe you promised me a kiss.”

 

It took her mere moments to realise what he was doing and she relaxed instantly, giggling at his expression and enjoying the game.  “Why yes Sir,” she simpered, one hand on his chest, “I do believe I did…” and with that she leant forward and kissed him.

 

...

 

He tasted of tea - hot and faintly bitter from the tannin rich brew.  She meant to make it a light kiss, something gentle and over in a breath, as she knew she’d pushed him into it. 

 

A token.

 

A promise, maybe.

 

Sure enough, she merely ghosted his lips and pulled back.  But as she withdrew his arms tightened around her and he followed her until their lips met again and this time they didn’t break apart.  Then his hands were sliding down to her waist gently urging her to continue and his mouth opened and his tongue danced across hers…   

 

When they finally came up for air Severus was the first to recover enough to speak.

 

“Well.”  He looked at her speculatively with one eyebrow raised as she tried to catch her breath.  “Clearly chemistry isn’t going to be an issue, Granger.”

 

She smiled shyly, still slightly dazed, and carefully extricating herself from his lap. “I believe that’s my cue to leave.  Goodnight Professor.”

 

He replied absently, “Goodnight, Miss Granger,” his mind on the unexpectedly pleasant kiss they had just shared.  He leant back and closed his eyes in contemplation, her scent still surrounding him.  With a start he realised he’d dozed off and she was long gone and he was sitting alone in the cold kitchen woolgathering.  He stood abruptly and headed off to bed.  There would be time enough to analyse the evening’s events in the morning. 

 

oOo

The morning came all too quickly for Hermione, who never seemed to get enough sleep.  No matter that it had been the early hours when she'd got to bed, she still spent half the night tossing and turning.  Then, when she finally did succumb, it felt like only moments later that she heard someone get up to start breakfast and the sound of the ancient boiler galvanising itself into action shuddered through the whole house. She could have put a silencing charm up and shut out the noise but by then the damage was done and she was wide awake.

 

Insomnia was one of her souvenirs of war, along with the tendency to hex first and ask questions later, and bones that ached in cold weather thanks to Bellatrix’s vindictive use of the cruciatus curse at Malfoy Manor.

 

Hermione didn’t rush to get up and join the household.  She lay in bed thinking over the surprising events of the previous night. 

 

The ball had been tedious, as they almost always were.  With nothing better to do, she’d spent the evening amusing herself by observing Professor Snape whilst being dragged around the dance floor by various men, all interchangeably bland and instantly forgettable.  He was conspicuously absent from the dancing after his obligatory turns with Hestia and then herself - where he was as stiffly formal and correct as usual, prompting her to seek him out.  He had clearly cast notice-me-not charms around himself as her eyes had slid over his form without acknowledgement.  It was only when she made a concerted effort to look into the shadowed corner that she had worked out he must have been sitting in that she was able to make out his figure, barely visible even without the assistance of a charm, given his head-to-toe black clothing.  He was relaxed, leaning back in his chair with his legs stretched out in front of him. She could see him idly rolling a glass of firewhiskey between the long fingers of his left hand whilst his right held open a book. 

 

Unfortunately, before she was able to make out the book title her bumbling dance partner swept her around in an attempt to spin her, before tripping over his own toes and nearly sending them both flying.  It was only her judicial application of an anti-tripping charm to both of their feet that saved them from that embarrassment. 

 

Hermione had gritted her teeth and allowed the man to finish the dance but had excused herself as soon as she could to escape to the seating area and a rest for her poor abused toes. She had looked longingly at the Professor’s quiet corner and thought how nice it would be to escape to it and hide in the darkness with a book. Alas, being a famous war heroine, not to mention young, single and reasonably attractive, meant her chances of slipping away were nil.  The best she could do was to plead tiredness for a couple of dances then snag Neville for the next. He might not be the world’s best dancer, but at least he didn’t spent the time trying to get into her knickers, or her Gringott's vault.

 

It had been a very pleasant surprise when the Professor had sat down in the kitchen with her later that night.  She'd noticed he was more sociable now than he had been at Hogwarts, even deigning to speak to his former students on rare occasions.  However she hadn't had a chance to speak one on one with him for some time. Thanks to Harry's generosity every bedroom at Grimmauld Place was occupied so the house was always busy with people coming and going.  It was great in some ways but meant private conversations were limited. 

 

His willingness to chat with her the previous night had been unexpected.  Not only that but he had been relaxed and even joked with her. That was what had thrown her... He sat at the table drinking tea and _joked_. With _her_.

 

She had always known in some vague way that he wasn't just her teacher and a war hero but was also a man, but it hadn't been until that moment, when he'd made his comment about having a witch in his bed, that she had suddenly become achingly aware of his masculinity.  Not only that but he was brave and loyal, clever and well read, and offering to make her life easier by escorting her to the balls. 

 

No wonder she had felt a fierce longing to know him better and see that side of him again. No wonder the idea of bedding him was so very appealing. 

 

oOo

For Severus the lure of coffee ensured he was up and out of his bed at his usual early hour, greeting the other occupant of the kitchen with a brusk “morning” before he filled a cup and disappeared back out of the room into the relative peace of the library.  Experience had taught him that the last place he wanted to be before he’d consumed a substantial amount of caffeine was the kitchen.  On week days, it bore a striking resemblance to Piccadilly Circus with everyone rushing in and out, grabbing toast and juice on their way to the floo.  At weekends someone usually got a fry-up going and people tended to slope in late and linger over toast and the sunday papers.  He wasn’t in the mood for breakfast or conversation so a swift retreat was definitely in order.

 

Despite the intriguing developments of the previous night, he purposely didn’t dwell on them. Instead he settled into his favourite battered leather armchair by the fireplace and cracked open the charms book he had picked up the previous evening.  He wasn’t worried about Granger.  She was a typical Gryffindor… there was no way she wouldn’t come find him and initiate a conversation once she was ready to do so.  All he had to do was wait. 

 

‘ _Although odds-on she’s going to come tell me it was all a big mistake, or point blank deny any knowledge of the conversation. Not that I care.’_  He thought snidely, unwilling to admit to himself that he was actually interested in the little witch and that he would be disappointed if she backed down.

 

It wasn’t long before the grey-tinged light of dawn that he had awoken to was replaced with yet another sunny day.  The optimism of the wizarding world post-war (along with the banishment of the Dementors) was ensuring that the summer was looking to be the most temperate the UK had experienced in years.  Long hot days were followed by cool drizzly nights - perfect.  Unless, of course, you wore a _lot_ of black and spent most of the year in a castle dungeon in the Scottish Highlands. In that case, the glorious sunshine was more of a hazard than a pleasure.  Still, there was no point being a wizard if you weren’t proficient in the little spells that made life more comfortable, such as cooling charms and potions to avoid sunburn. 

 

He put down the book when the sunlight reflecting off the pages became too bright. It would be no effort at all to wave his wand and close the curtains but for once he was loath to sit in the dark. If he was honest with himself, he knew the sunlight was merely an excuse.  He was actually feeling rather lazy and that the book he’d chosen, although undoubtedly fascinating, was rather heavy going and required an understanding of arithmancy just beyond his comfort level.  Instead he closed his eyes and basked in the rays warming the old brown leather seat he was in.  ‘ _This must be what it is like to be a cat,’_ he thought idly, ‘ _Snoozing away the day.  It’s really rather pleasant. No wonder Minerva spends so much time in her animagus form.’_

 

Of course, with little to occupy his mind now, his thoughts drifted back to the interesting kitchen encounter of the previous night.  He was still a little bit in shock in all honesty.  He hadn’t meant it seriously when he’d said about wanting company in bed.  Well, he’d meant in, but he hadn’t _meant it_. Not for _her_ anyway.  But then she had responded. With enthusiasm.

 

Severus was well aware that his new reputation as the love-lorn spy who spent twenty years pining over his childhood sweetheart made women go weak at the knees - something he’d used to his advantage many a time when he wanted an easy lay. But this was Miss Granger, who surely only thought of him as her grumpy old Potions Professor? Surely as someone who had spent time with him, and as someone not given over to excessively romantic flights of fancy, she knew he was just as curmudgeonly as he had always seemed. Unlike the women he met now who thought it was all an act, and that he just needed a woman who _understood_.

 

He snorted in dry amusement.  He knew himself very well thank you and wasn’t about to change for anyone, least of all some floozy he’d just met.  Although he would never admit it to anyone, he was actually quite content with his life, especially now both of his masters were 6 foot under.  He would prefer less of the socialising he was being forced into at the present time, but that would taper off quickly once the summer ended and term resumed at Hogwarts.  Besides… if Miss Granger actually went through with her foolish bargain then even those evenings spent trying not to hex the dunderheads who tried to talk to him would have their own reward. 

 

 _“Despite myself I do feel a little sorry for the girl,’_ he thought, remembering how many evenings she had come home looking pale and weary from having to fend off unsuitable wizards - the rest of the Golden Trio far too self-centred to notice that she needed a little support. ‘ _Perhaps I’ll make an effort to stick by her side for a week or so,’_ he mused charitably, ‘ _It wouldn’t exactly be a hardship and might just thin the herd a touch for her. Give me a chance to cast silent hexes too - I’m getting out of practice,’_   he thought with a smirk. 

 

With that thought in mind he settled back in his chair and daydreamed about the most inventive time-delayed hexes he could recall that would be _appropriate_ for the ministry gatherings. 

 

oOo

He woke with a start when the door of the library swung open and a voice called “Professor, I-“ and then at a significantly quieter volume, “Oh, sorry Sir, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

He opened one eye to see Granger standing in front of him, smirking slightly at having caught him so off guard.  ‘ _Blasted snake bite - the sooner I’m fully fit again the better.’_

It was a toss up between dignity and brazening it out, and the latter won. Frankly, he couldn’t be arsed to care any more - she wasn’t his student any more and had seen far worse than him enjoying a quiet nap.  He shut his eye again and drawled, “Ah, Miss Granger, I did wonder when I’d see you this morning.  Here to thank me for my offer and politely decline?”

 

He could feel her hovering in front of him for a moment longer, then she moved to the side and sat down in the chair on the other side of the fireplace.

 

“No, Sir, not quite.”

 

He raised an eyebrow in query, sensing that she was watching him.

 

“I…

 

“That is…

 

“Um…”

 

With a sigh he opened his eyes and fixed his stare on her.  “Miss Granger, I haven’t got all day.” 

 

At her amused look at him and the closed book on his lap he had the grace to look mildly abashed. Still, he waited for her to get to the point.

 

“I-think-it’s-a-good-idea-and-we-should-do-it,” she said in a nervous rush. 

 

He looked blankly at her for a moment before he managed to process what she’d said into english.

 

“So a night’s sleep wasn’t enough to deter you from this foolish path?”

 

“Oh, come on Professor,” she chided, her confidence returning now she’d made her position clear, “It was your suggestion anyway, so it can’t be that foolish. I want a break from all the idiots standing on my toes, and you want no-strings sex with someone who doesn’t think you are some Byronesque hero who needs saving from himself.”

 

At that bold comment he went as far as to open his eyes and look at her more closely. “Indeed.”

 

“Well,” she justified, “It doesn’t take a genius to work out what they all think of you, not given the gossip at the dances, and the ridiculous editorials the _Prophet_ insists on writing about you. Anyone who has spent any time actually with you knows full well you…” She trailed off, suddenly aware of how the words sounded now they were out in the open.  It had all sounded _so_ much better in her head.

 

“No, go on, Miss Granger,” Snape’s voice was silky smooth and very dangerous, “Tell me, what is it everyone _knows_ about me.”

 

‘ _In for a penny… he can’t hex me too badly here anyway,’_ she comforted herself. “Well,” she replied carefully, “What I meant was that anyone who has come through your classroom is well aware you are not one to suffer fools gladly. So I don’t expect you appreciate the attention on your previous actions, especially by some of the simpering idiots I’ve seen fawning over you.”

 

“Maybe I _like_ the fawning,”  he returned, deceptively mildly, unsure whether to be amused or outraged at her opinion of his love life.  “Have you considered that Miss Granger?”

 

“Well yes,” she told him blithely, “Of course I considered that, but if that was the case you’d have spent the last few weeks tarting around the ballroom like Ron does, chatting up all your eager groupies.  Instead you hide in the corner with a _notice-me-not_ charm and a book.  And you wouldn’t be interested in a girl like me.  I might have managed to convince Gringotts I was Bellatrix,” she looked down at herself wryly, “But I don’t think I could pull off empty-headed bimbo for longer than about five minutes, let alone look at you adoringly for being such a brooding hero.”

 

Amusement won out and he chuckled appreciatively.  “Touché, Miss Granger.  All right, you win. Next ball, I’ll be your escort. Then you can accompany me to my bedroom the following night.  We’ll call it a trial run… if the arrangement is to our _mutual satisfaction_ we can hash out the details for a longer agreement then.”

 

She managed to refrain from letting out a girly squeal, but only just. 

 

“Now. Go away.  As you can tell I am very busy and need some peace and quiet, not interruptions from little Gryffindors like yourself.” He waved a hand at her in dismissal then shut his eyes and settled back in the chair, fully intending to resume the rather pleasant nap he’d been taking. 

 

Hermione sat for a moment longer, enjoying the quiet of the library before standing and making her way over to his chair.  Taking a risk, she leant over and pressed a light kiss on to his forehead as he sunned himself.  “Thank you, Professor,” she whispered before letting herself out. 


	3. Chapter 3

The following week started off slowly.  Hermione was busy assisting with the rebuilding of Hogwarts most days, so she only saw her surly ex-Professor at mealtimes.  There was little to no chance of private conversation around the dining table, especially as he always seemed to be seated as far away from her as possible, and disappeared back to his room as soon as the meal was over.  At first she thought she was being paranoid and that he was avoiding her. She quickly took herself to task and told herself not to be ridiculous.  He sat with Minerva and the other Hogwarts staff, as he had done for every meal since arriving in the house.  It was nothing to do with her.

 

Still, she felt a pang of regret that she didn’t get to talk to him.  She knew it was silly but she would have liked a little reassurance that he wasn’t going to change his mind before the upcoming ball, scheduled for Friday night.  This one was being run by the ministry itself at the Minister’s residence, in aid of the War Orphan’s Fund.  There was to be a short speech by Harry after the dinner, followed by an auction to raise funds and then dancing.  It all sounded like a lot of fun… if you hadn’t been to five hundred similar events in the previous few weeks.  As it was, Hermione was just grateful she didn’t have to speak and that the auction would eat into the time spent in the meat-market that was the dance floor. She would be expected to bid on some of the auction lots, but given how few galleons were in her Gringott’s vault she didn’t have any concerns at all that she might win.  

 

Friday evening found her standing in front of her closet in her knickers and a frown. She had neither the money nor the inclination for many evening dresses.  Usually she grabbed one at random out of her wardrobe before an event and transfigured a detail like the colour or the neckline to make them look slightly different.  Trying to decide what would be appropriate to wear whilst partnered with Professor Snape though was making her head ache.  ‘ _It really shouldn’t be that difficult,’_ she thought, ‘ _It’s not as if I don’t know what he will be wearing - black robes with a hint of darkest green in the lining. Same as he does for every one of these events.’_   She didn’t want to go down the house colour route, so that meant red, gold, silver and green were all out straight away.  Black would make the two of them look funereal.  Blue would be a good choice - a safe choice.  But she’d worn blue to the last couple of events for precisely that reason.

 

She pulled out her favourite dress and held it up to her in front of the mirror. It was elegant rather than showy - full length, with long fitted sleeves and a modest neckline ensured she wasn’t showing an inappropriate amount of flesh.  It complemented her slim figure though, with its fitted bodice and skirt made from layers of feather-light silk chiffon.  Secretly she always felt a bit of a princess when she wore it, especially when dancing where the skirt would swirl out behind her in a very satisfying way.  It was nice, after all, to look like a girl occasionally, even for someone who lived happily in jeans the rest of the time.  She smiled absently as she swished it around her body in front of the mirror, _‘If I only get to be escorted by the Professor once then I should make the most of it and at the very least wear something I’ll enjoy dancing in whilst I have a partner worthy of it,’_ she thought wryly. 

 

Turning her attention back to the colour conundrum she bit her lip as she debated internally. The dress was currently pale blue. Flicking her wand impatiently she tried out various colours in quick succession.  From the safe - midnight blue - through to an outlandish neon pink. Giggling at the thought of his expression if she turned up in such a shade she quickly flicked again and changed it to a smoky grey. 

 

Hermione was surprised when she held the dress up again to see how flattering the grey was against her skin tone.  A few adjustments to make it more dramatic and she had a dress she thought would look rather lovely. It was now palest grey at the neckline, darkening down her body to a dark arsenic-grey around her toes. She added a black lace band around her waist, and knew it was as good as she was going to get. She could transfigure her shoes and bag to match the colour of the skirt perfectly, so she was all set.

 

Once dressed Hermione stood in front of the mirror again and examined her reflection critically. She’d pinned her curls in a loose knot at the nape of her neck, allowing tendrils to fall around her face. Make up wasn’t really her forte, so a little blush, mascara and lip gloss was all she wore.  The stress and lack of food which defined the year had left Hermione with a body lacking in curves.  The dress however managed to skim over certain areas, and the full skirt added much needed shape.  ‘ _It will have to do,’_ she twisted in front of the mirror again, examining herself from the side, ‘ _I look presentable, and it’s not as if he hasn’t seen me dressed for these events a hundred times before.’_

 

She pulled her cloak on over her dress as she ran lightly down the stairs.  As had become their habit, anyone attending from the house would meet in the library so they could all floo together to the event. It was quarter to the hour, so Hermione knew she would probably be the first one ready.  Sure enough, the room was empty. 

 

Undeterred, Hermione picked a book at random off the shelves and curled up in the same battered old armchair that her Professor had been in when they had last spoken. The sun was low in the sky but there was enough light still to read by, and she had a pleasant ten minutes of peace before Harry, Ron and Professor McGonagall all arrived together. As this was such an important event, Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic had persuaded Minerva that all the key Order members needed to be in attendance. 

 

“Hey Hermione,” Harry called as he entered the room, “Bit last minute, I know, but can you have a quick look at my speech?” 

 

She rolled her eyes and put down her book.  “Honestly, is there ever going to be a time you _don’t_ need me to look over your homework Harry?”  She grumbled as she reached for the cards he held out. Skimming them quickly, she grabbed a muggle biro from her bag which she used to amend his notes. Waving him over, she held them up for him to see her corrections. 

 

“See here, I’ve just changed the order of these points around so you get the most impact at the end of the list.”

 

“Oh, ok. That makes sense.” Harry grinned.

 

“And at the end here,” Hermione pulled out one of the last cards, “See if you can repeat the bit about how the Wizarding world needs to change and adapt in order to survive, and how supporting these orphans, no matter who their families were, is a good start.  If you can bear to talk about your own childhood a bit you’ll get the sympathy vote and they will be clamouring to spend their galleons in the auction.”

 

“Jeez Hermione,” Ron interjected, having heard her, “You are worse than Kingsley these days. Where did you learn to manipulate like that?”

 

Hermione wasn’t sure whether he meant it as a criticism or a compliment.  Figuring that she had a long night ahead so she might as well start in a good mood, she took it as praise.  “Thanks Ron.  It’s not difficult you know if you just listen to what’s going on around us. Anyway, it’s for a good cause. The more money these people cough up, the better chance the kids have of having a decent childhood.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Ron grumbled as Harry continued to read through his cards, muttering in places as he practiced key phrases.  They had all become adept at public speaking since the end of the war and had stock speeches they rolled out for each event, with a few minor adjustments according to the audience… ‘ _kind of like me and my transfigured dresses,’_ Hermione thought with amusement. 

 

Severus Snape entered the library in a swirl of robes just as the clock struck the hour. Hermione saw him as he came through the door and her stomach swooped most alarmingly.  He looked as dark and powerful as always, resplendent in his velvet and silk dress robes.  It was a real treat to think he would be escorting her that evening - for once she was almost looking forward to the night ahead.  She was just about to stand and greet him when Professor McGonagall interrupted.

 

“Ah, excellent timing Severus,” said Minerva as she headed towards the fireplace, Harry shoving his cards into his pocket as he stood.  “Come on now, we don’t want to be late.”  Snape merely nodded in greeting to Minerva before ushering the others through the floo in front of him.  In moments they were all standing in the main foyer of the Minister’s residence before being guided away from the floo and towards the ballroom by a helpful ministry employee.

 

Hermione wanted to hold back and speak to the Professor before entering the large ballroom, but Harry and Ron had taken up positions on either side of her and were chattering away about when the rest of the Weasleys were going to get there, and what Kingsley had told Ron was going to be on the menu for dinner. With a helpless glance behind her at the smirking man she was swept away into the crowd by the boys.

 

On his part, Severus was secretly glad of the momentary reprieve from escorting duties. He couldn’t help but notice how lovely Miss Granger looked that evening.  Usually the women all blended into a sea of frothy dresses and frivolous accessories and jewels.  She looked different that evening though, and stood out from the crowd.  Severus wasn’t sure whether it was her dress, unusual in it’s grey tones; or if it was his own reaction to her because he knew he’d be dancing with her later. 

 

He was surprised to discover that despite his internally voiced protests he really didn’t mind the thought of spending the evening in the company of a pretty young woman at all. Especially as it was Miss Granger, who could be relied on for an intelligent conversation whilst turning round the floor rather than small-talk about the weather, albeit one peppered with an overabundance of questions.  However, no matter how resigned he was to fulfilling his part of the deal, he had no desire to announce it to all and sundry by entering with her on his arm. Instead he broke no protest when she was carried through by Potter and Weasley, and offered his arm to Minerva. She took it gracefully and they sailed into the room together. 

 

The attendees were clutching glasses of elf-made champagne and making small talk in the crowded room as they waited for the dinner to begin.  He scanned the crowds for familiar faces and nodded at the other Order members he saw.  To his surprise, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were also in attendance, standing quietly against one wall, both looking much more subdued than usual.  He inclined his head to Lucius who responded in kind. It was the first time he had seen Malfoy in public since his much publicised trial and subsequent acquittal. Severus had mixed feelings about the pair.  They had been friends for a very long time so he was glad he had escaped Azkaban, but he was well aware how deeply entrenched some of Lucius’ views really were. But ever the politician, his public persona changed according to the order of the day.  The pure-blood supremacy party had lost spectacularly so it was in Lucius’ best interests to become a reformed character, on the surface at least.

 

However, this wasn’t the night to discuss such things.  No doubt he would be invited to Malfoy Manor soon enough for dinner, and could sound Lucius out when the brandy and cigars came out at the end of the evening. No, tonight was for doing his duty and promoting the cause of the War Orphans, and then doing a wholly different duty and protecting Miss Granger from the masses. 

 

oOo

Dinner was as tedious as they had all expected.  The ministry had spread out the ‘war heroes’ across several tables of the great and good of Wizarding society.  Hermione found herself on a table with several senior Ministry Heads of Department and their partners, and resigned herself to an evening of smiling politely whilst answering the same inane questions everyone always seemed to want to ask her.

 

For some reason the epic year long trek to find the missing parts of Voldemort’s soul appealed to middle aged men and women alike and they were always desperately keen to hear more about it.  Once, at one of the earliest events, Hermione had made the mistake of telling the truth about how truly despicably horrid it was to live in a tent for a year with two boys, no food and very little hope of surviving let alone completing their impossible task. The shocked silence that surrounded her after her outburst had ensured that she never did it again. These days she kept the answers as neutral as she was able to, allowing them all to go away with their fantasies of adventures still intact.

 

She was amused to note that Professor Snape had been put on a table of mastercraftmen from all the major guilds and was actually joining in the conversation for a change. Kingsley had clearly set the seating plan to make sure his most volatile ‘hero’ wasn’t liable to hex his dining companions.  She wished wistfully that she was on that table too… she was sure the discussions were infinitely more interesting than on hers, which had morphed from intrusive questions for her on the war and now appeared to be focused on house prices in the wizarding communities and how hard it was to get good tutors these days for their primary-aged children.  Stifling a yawn she did her duty and tried to look attentive, smiling and nodding at appropriate intervals. 

 

Eventually the dinner ended.  Harry’s speech went down well and she smiled brightly as she caught his eye when he left the small platform he’d been speaking from.  Her changes had worked and he’d done well.  Then came the auction and Hermione, ever the team player, made her bids and looked disappointed as she was outbid for each and every item. She was pleased to see that all the lots were going for vastly inflated prices as the Wizarding Great and Good dug deep to help the orphans. 

 

Finally, _finally_ , the last bid was made and applause rang out as the auction ended and the total donations made were announced. There was another flurry of handshakes and comments on how nice it had been to meet her from her table before the attendees stood and made their way to the dance floor enmass.   

oOo

Severus had bore the dinner with relatively good grace.  He’d been seated next to a Master Herbologist that he had met before and they spent the main course embroiled in a fascinating discussion on the benefits and detriments of using magic in the growing of key potions ingredients.  Severus made a mental note of several points made to relay back to Sprout for when her greenhouses were repaired.

 

The auction was tedious but he had no intention of bidding so instead he used the time to subtly review the room.  The attendees were mostly of the older generation - those with the largest Gringott’s vaults. Although there were a fair few descendants filling up the tables too, he noted.  Still, the _golden trio_ were the youngest by far, and Miss Granger the most attractive of the unmarried women.  ‘ _No wonder she needs an escort,’_ he thought with a scowl on his face, having seen how many lecherous looks had already been thrown her way.  He was surprised to discover he was feeling almost possessive of the young witch despite having no claim to her other than residing in the same house for the summer.

 

Once the band began to play the opening dance he slipped around the room to where she was standing, coming up behind her.  He saw with no little amusement that she had four men in front of her already, all vying for her attention in an attempt to procure a dance.  She was doing her best to dissuade them when he came closer.

 

“-Well, that’s very kind of you, but I really must say no,” she was saying as he placed a hand on her shoulder.  She looked up and gave him a big toothy grin before turning to face the men again, smile still in place.

 

“I believe that Miss Granger has declined your company this evening, gentlemen?” He purred, his hand remaining on her shoulder possessively.

 

The prospective suitors looked at Hermione, then up to the dark and brooding Ex-Death Eater and War Hero, and as one decided that the delectable Miss Granger wasn’t worth the risk of a hex from _him_. Time to bow out gracefully and find less dangerous partners.

 

As they backed away Severus moved to face her.  Formally, he held out his hand for hers.  When she placed it in his, he bowed and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “I believe you require a dancing partner?”  He queried, his voice as smooth as silk.

 

She smiled again and nodded, “Thank you, that would be most kind,” she managed, although he could tell she was only just refraining from giggling.

 

He clasped the hand he’d just kissed and led her onto the dance floor, where the band were playing a waltz.  They swiftly got into position and joined the masses swirling around the floor.

 

It took several seconds before he felt her shoulders stop shaking from the suppressed laughter.

 

“Feeling better, Miss Granger?”  He asked acerbically whilst leading her around the floor, their steps light and perfectly coordinated. It really was so much more pleasant to dance with someone who was proficient enough to follow his lead.

 

She looked up at him - the first time she’d managed to make eye contact since he’d rescued her - and smiled again, her eyes dancing with mirth,  “Oh yes Sir, much better!  That was _brilliant!_ If I’d known how quickly you could get rid of those pests I’d have suggested we did this some weeks ago.”

 

“Hmmm.”

 

“Did you see David’s face?”  She sniggered at the memory.

 

“David? Young Mr Oldridge, you mean? Ah well, as I recall he managed to rack up an impressive number of detentions with me during his school years thanks to his inability to concentrate on the cauldron in front of him when members of the opposite sex were in the same room.”

 

She laughed again, and squeezed his shoulder with the hand resting there, “That does sound like David… He’s one of the more persistent of my dance partners and I’ve done everything I can think of to dissuade him.”

 

“Oh?” Despite himself, Severus was interested.

 

“Well, I guess I’ve erred away from direct confrontation and creative hexing and just tried to avoid him, but really he should have taken a hint by now.  If I’ve been to busy for dinner at any point in the last 6 weeks when he’s asked, I’m clearly not interested.  Besides,” she shuddered, “He smells weird and has sweaty hands.”

 

“A heinous crime indeed.” Severus allowed himself a tiny smirk.

 

They lapsed into silence as they turned around the room another couple of times before the song ended. As he moved to escort her back to her chair she tightened her hold on him slightly.

 

“Another dance, Professor? I do believe if you were to turn around you would see that the sharks are circling.  They don’t appear to have got the message that I’m not available this evening.”

 

Rather than answer he pulled her back into his arms.  He let out an exaggeratedly put-upon sigh, but he didn’t mind too much. After all, it was most amusing to watch the expressions of envy on the other men’s faces when they saw her smiling up at him and dancing in his arms.  ‘ _Just think how pissed they would be if they knew she will be in my bed this time tomorrow.’_ He smiled sadistically, looking forward to it already.

oOo

It was a tired and slightly disheveled group that finally made it back to Grimmauld Place in the early hours of the morning.  Hermione yawned and sat in one of the library chairs to take off her shoes as the others made their way through the floo, her cheeks still flushed from the evening’s activities. 

 

“Tea?” She enquired tiredly, sticking her legs out and wriggling her toes.

 

“Merlin yes!” Harry exclaimed, “I’m parched.  I’ll stick the kettle on.” He ambled out of the room and down the stairs to the basement kitchen, closely followed by Ron in search of the biscuit tin. 

 

“I think I’ll decline Miss Granger,” said Professor McGonagall, “My bed is calling me. I have another site meeting tomorrow at the school and it’s already later than I thought.”  With that she bid them goodnight and left the library.

 

Hermione stood and stretched with another jaw cracking yawn before walking out. She stopped in the doorway to look back at her professor and dance partner, who was yet to comment. She arched an eyebrow in a deliberate imitation of him.  “Coming Sir?”

 

“I suppose so, Miss Granger.  It is, after all, tradition for us to be found in the kitchen drinking tea after these things.”

 

She laughed and he marvelled at how often she did that, and with him too.  She had appeared to enjoy the evening immensely, spending most of it on the dance floor.  Between himself, Harry, Ron and the senior Order members like Kingsley, she was never without a partner and never had to deal with her ‘fans’.  The only times she stopped dancing were to sit with him on the side and share the gossip she’d heard as she’d spun around the floor, despite his token pleas that he had no wish to hear such things.  

 

He allowed himself a moment of smugness that it was his intervention that had allowed her to spend the time as she had wanted to.  It had clearly been appreciated. 

 

oOo

Hermione hummed absently as she wandered around the kitchen collecting the tea cups, the milk and the sugar and placing them all on the table while Harry dealt with the teapot.  Merlin, she’d had _such_ a good time that night! Everything had been just right, from her pretty dress and shoe choice to the music the band played all night. Knowing she didn’t have to dance with anyone she didn’t want to had been a massive relief - it had felt like a weight lifting from her shoulders as soon as the auction ended and her ‘duty’ was done.  No requirement to smile while avoiding being felt up by some letch, no need to cast yet another soothing charm on her bruised toes after another hapless suitor. Instead she had danced with her Professor, Harry and Ron.  Even Kingsley had taken her for a turn around the floor, making her laugh in sheer delight when he spun her out flamboyantly before bringing her back close to him.

 

It had been perfect.

 

The Professor had been exceptionally tolerant, she thought as she twirled slowly between the cupboards lost in thought, given how often she had approached him to keep her company.  He was a good dance partner - not showy like Minister Shacklebolt but infinitely more proficient than either Harry or Ron, both of whose dancing style bore a striking resemblance to a Norwegian Ridgeback trying to do a tango.  Professor Snape was nothing but correct in his hold. He didn’t pull her too close, but nor did he leave her feeling lost and unprotected.  Instead he led her competently around the dance floor, no matter what the band were playing.  He’d even allowed her to sit with him when she stopped for a drink and a rest and had deigned to make smalltalk with her. 

 

Just as she sat down at the scrubbed wooden table with the boys he arrived.  He looked in two minds as to whether to sit or not. ‘ _Too many Gryffindors?’_ Hermione thought with a smirk, ‘ _Or maybe it’s the thought of having to talk to all three of the golden trio without having house point removal available as a last resort?’_ Out loud she merely said “Shall I pour, Sir?” and pushed the empty chair opposite her away from the table with her foot so he could sit down.

He folded himself into the chair and nodded when she raised an eyebrow in query at him. ‘ _Must stop using the Professor’s mannerisms on him.  It’s very poor form,’_ she thought with a giggle. Tea poured, they all sat in silence for a few blessed minutes, punctuated only by the occasional chink of a teacup being lowered and by Ron’s crunching as he devoured half a tin of biscuits.

 

Snape found himself watching the Weasley boy with some fascination.  “Did you not eat the meal provided Mr Weasley?” he asked finally.

 

Ron attempted to answer then realised he had a mouth full of biscuit crumbs.  Taking a mouthful of tea, he swallowed before explaining, “Yeah but that was hours ago, and all that dancing was hard work.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

Silence again, this time awkward.

 

Eventually Harry excused himself, yawning.  Ron followed quickly afterwards, leaving Hermione and the Professor alone in the kitchen.

 

“Thank you,” she said softly.

 

“For what, Miss Granger?”

 

“For being such a good sport and allowing me to have a lovely evening.  I really appreciate you partnering with me - I know you would have preferred to sit in a dark corner with a book like you usually do, Sir.”

 

Severus felt unaccountably warm.  “It was nothing, Miss Granger,”  he dismissed. “Besides, as I recall, I will be compensated amply for my time tomorrow.  Well,” looking at his watch, “later today, actually.”

 

She grinned up at him again.  “Ah yes, the bed warming. I’m rostered to assist in the Hogwarts library all day tomorrow and I doubt I’ll get back much before dinner. I know we haven’t agreed a time yet… would it be ok if we made it an hour after dinner?  That would give me time to freshen up before we… start.” She blushed prettily, suddenly feeling tongue-tied at the thought of making arrangements to have sex with her Potions Professor. 

 

“That would be acceptable. You know which room is mine? Top floor, first door on the left.”

 

“And on that note… I should really go find my own bed before it gets any later.” She rose from the table and padded around to his side, her shoes in one hand.  Leaning down she kissed him on the cheek before going to leave. He wasn’t having that though - if she wanted a goodnight kiss he would give her one, and not just a peck on the cheek.

 

“Come here Miss Granger,” he growled.  She squeaked endearingly before taking a step back into his space.  He pulled her head down and kissed her thoroughly, allowing a little of the anticipation he had for the following evening to bleed into the kiss. He was gratified to discover that she responded enthusiastically, only pulling back when she could feel yet another yawn coming on. 

 

“Oh, sorry, I can’t help it,”  Covering her mouth she yawned hugely then giggled at his expression.  “Sorry Sir!  It’s so late… I really must go.  Goodnight!” And with that she ran away.

 

He allowed himself a small smile at the sound of her giggles as she climbed the stairs. He didn’t know how they were going to be in bed, but the signs were very positive.  All in all, he couldn’t help but feel he’d done rather well out of this deal.

 


	4. Chapter 4

She wasn’t at dinner. 

 

Severus had kept himself busy about the house all day with various little jobs (and a post-lunch nap… cautiously optimistic that maybe he wouldn’t be sleeping much that evening).  He’d joined the others in the kitchen at seven on the dot, their usual meal time. The table was full as always with a ragtag group of order members joining the residents.  Unfortunately a quick scan confirmed the initial impression he’d had on walking through the door - no curly haired Gryffindor know-it-all.

 

Dinner was served and they all ate.  Severus mechanically ate the chicken and vegetables and listened to the conversations around him, all the while hoping someone would comment on where Miss Granger was. He couldn’t ask himself - that would be far too blunt and people would make all sorts of (somewhat correct) assumptions if he was seen to single her out in any way.  She was _always_ at dinner.

 

“How is the school today?” He asked Minerva, who was sitting next to him.

 

“Oh, Severus, you should come and visit,” She replied, her voice warm.  “It’s looking almost like the old place again now. Although, dare I say it,” she dropped to a whisper, “In some ways it is better now.  We’ve been able to use the chance to redesign some of the more problematic areas.  I managed to convince the board of governors that we needed to reopen the third floor corridor so they’ve provided the funds to completely renovate it. Plus, you know the damage didn’t affect the dungeons?”

 

“Yes, I heard that the Slytherin rooms were untouched.”

 

“Well we’ve had to pretty much rip out the rest of the dormitories and start again as there was so much gone.  So rather than leave Slytherin out, we’ve redone their rooms too.”

 

“What exactly has been done?”  He frowned into his plate. His snakes were very protective of their rooms - they liked them as they were.

 

“Nothing you’d notice just by looking.  Don’t worry Severus, I love the character of the old place as much as you do.  But the underlying charms were threadbare in places, not to mention the mortar was literally crumbling from between the stones in the walls. Redoing it all means no more draughty rooms which stay cold no matter how many heating charms are applied. And the plumbing too. I know it is all small stuff, but if your students are anything like my Gryffindors these are the kinds of things you’ve been hearing complaints about for years.”

 

Severus had to agree - the castle was indeed old and in need of a bit of TLC. ‘ _Such a shame it took an epic battle for the money to become available,_ ’ he thought cynically.

 

"How many teams did you have working there today?" He enquired with studied indifference.

 

"Oh, no idea," she replied breezily.  "I was shut away with the Board of Governors all day reviewing the build budget.  I barely had time to walk to the apparition point to get back here for dinner."

 

One last try.  "So you were the last to leave?"

 

"I haven't got a clue Severus.  Now what's all this about really?  I might be an unsubtle Gryffindor in your eyes but I've known you for nearly thirty years and sat next to you at dinner for at least ten of those.  You never engage in conversation without there being at least three ulterior motives in place."

 

Severus didn't even blink.  Spying on the Dark Lord was excellent practice for dealing with nosy colleagues.  "Why Minerva, surely you know better than anyone.  That castle has been my home for, as you say, nearly thirty years.  I am merely curious as to how the repairs are progressing and whether the building firms you have employed are doing a decent day's work."  

 

He’d failed to get any information on where Miss Granger was which was a shame, but Minerva’s comments left him much to ponder upon.  He’d not been back to the school since the final battle.  To begin with he’d been too ill to make the trip. He was well enough now but truth be told he was a little worried about the reception he would receive. He might be classed as a hero to the general population but there would be many who bore the scars - both mental and physical - from his stint as headmaster.

 

The plates were cleared and cheese and biscuits brought out along with the coffee pot.

 

Still no sign of Granger.

 

He accepted coffee, lingering as long as he could reasonably do without anyone paying attention and without actively engaging in any of the conversations around the table. Finally he gave up in frustration and stalked to the library, grabbed a book at random off the shelf and stomped up the stairs to his room.  He refrained from slamming the door shut but allowed himself a petulant groan once he was alone.

 

“I should have known it was too good to be true.  No doubt Miss Granger is out having fun with some young thing and has forgotten all about our deal.” He muttered to himself as he took his frock coat off and hung it up. Sitting on the edge of the bed and bending down to remove his boots he continued to rant, “My own foolish fault for trusting her.  I’m losing my touch - a true Slytherin would have got payment first.  She must have thought I was a complete fool.”

 

He threw himself into his chair by the window and slumped petulantly.  If it was anyone else it would have been called a sulk, but Severus emphatically _did not sulk._

 

He allowed himself a whole minute of disappointment before brushing it off and trying to make good his evening.  He knew in his heart that he was being unfair and that Miss Granger wasn’t the type to cancel without sending notice, but he really couldn’t think what else could have happened other than that she got cold feet.

 

‘ _She would have been a pain to bed anyway. No doubt she would have chatted incessantly, not to mention the inevitable five hundred questions,’_ he tried telling himself as he took a speculative look at the cover of the book he’d picked up in the library. To his relief it was actually something he’d been intending to read - an account of a Herbologist’s travels across Central America searching for an elusive type of Guatemala passion vine in the mid nineteenth century. 

 

Sitting himself up properly he opened the book and began to read.  Before long he was totally involved - the author managed to be both knowledgeable and interesting, making him wonder idly if it would be possible to explore the region himself one day.

 

He only realised how late it had got when there was a knock on his door and he realised he was squinting to see the text in the dusk.  Being mid summer, the days were long, so he figured it must be around 9pm. With a huff he got up out of his chair and went to the door.  Throwing it open with some force he barked “Yes?” before realising a somewhat bedraggled and visibly upset Miss Granger stood in front of him.

 

oOo

“I’m so sorry Sir!” She exclaimed at speed the moment he opened the door.  “It wasn’t intentional, I got stuck - literally - in the library and couldn’t reach my wand to raise an alarm. It was only when the Fat Friar happened to come through that I was able to get him to call someone to help me. I know I’m horribly late but I came straight here.  Of course I would understand if you-“

 

“Stop!” Severus managed to silence her with a raised hand, “Miss Granger, you are babbling and I cannot make head nor tail of what you are trying to say.  Now, do you wish to come in and explain?”

 

“Yes please, Professor, if you don’t mind.”

 

“By all means,” he waved her towards the bed, somewhat ironically given their plans for the evening, and seated himself back in his chair.  “Be my guest.”

 

She perched on the edge. “Um. Do you have a glass I could borrow? Only I’ve not had anything since this morning as I worked right through lunch. As you know I missed dinner and I’m really quite thirsty.”

 

He declined to comment, merely passed her a glass from his shelf which he filled with an _aguamenti_ charm.  She took it gratefully and drank deeply before refilling the glass herself, this time taking a couple of sips. 

 

“Thanks,” she flashed him a quick smile. 

 

It was only now that he actually looked at her and realised she had indeed been in some kind of trouble.  Her skin, hair and clothing all had a grey tinge to them - he assumed from dust in the library - and her boots were covered in what looked like a hardened tarry substance. In fact, he could see it actually went above her boots and almost up to her jeans encased knees. Not only that but she looked exhausted and nervous, not an emotion he usually attributed to the forthright Gryffindor.

 

“So… you were assisting in the library today and something happened which left you trapped?” He summarised.

 

“Yes Sir - I think it was one of the defence spells leftover from the final battle. Might have been Seamus’ work… there was a certain familiarity to the construction of it.  Anyway, I was alone in the library cataloguing the damaged books. We’ve been working from the front backwards, and finally reached the restricted section.  I told the others I’d finish the row I was on in there and then I was going to come straight back here, so they all left for the debrief meeting in the Great Hall without me.  No-one would have known I was missing.”

 

“And your wand?”

 

“Out of reach on the table behind me.  I’d stepped forward to put the last of the books back on the shelf when I must have triggered the equivalent of a trip wire.  Before I knew it I was knee deep in some odd black gloopy pond with no way of getting out, and no one close enough to hear my shouts for help!” She peeked up at him through her lowered lashes, “I tried everything I could to get my damned wand back to me so I could send you a message.  I didn’t want you to think I’d stood you up.”

 

Severus decided to be magnanimous.  After all, she was there now and clearly repentant.  “I assumed, Miss Granger, that you had been detained by something important and that you would return when you were able to.”

 

“That’s a relief,” Her face relaxed considerably at his acceptance of her excuses, “I really am sorry though - I didn’t mean to let you down.  In fact, I can be ready for our original plan if you give me just a few minutes to get ready.”

 

He frowned at her. “Did you say you haven’t eaten since this morning?”

 

“Um… no Sir?”

 

“Why on earth are you in here then and not in the kitchen getting some food?  Merlin’s beard woman!  I thought you had more sense.”  He chastised her, annoyed she had put him above her health.  “Why don’t we postpone our plans until tomorrow? You are clearly tired and in need of a bath, not to mention a hot meal, and it is already late.”

 

She pouted. “But Sir, I’ve been looking forward to this all day!”

 

He rolled his eyes but he was secretly pleased.  “I thought this was supposed to be _my_ part of the bargain?”  He quipped, “Surely I have the right to decide where and when?  Especially as, given the state you are in right now, you are more likely to fall asleep than anything else.”

 

Sensing a weakening on her part he stood up and reached for her hand.  Pulling her up to standing her ushered her out of the room and back down the stairs to the kitchen.  Admonishing her to sit he went to make her some dinner.  He opened the larder and pulled leftover chicken, rice and vegetables from under the chilled stasis charm.  Summoning a plate from the cupboard with a swish of his wand, he swiftly made her up a meal.  A further flick of his warm and it was piping hot.  He put the plate down in front of her and told her sternly that she was to eat every last mouthful and that he would see her in the morning.

 

Miss Granger inhaled the steam coming off the plate with an appreciative “mmm” and dug in straight away. “Thank you, Professor,” she managed between mouthfuls as she practically inhaled the food,  “And I’m sorry again for letting you down.”

 

He waved her apologies away and left her in the kitchen to finish, heading back to his room. The evening hadn’t gone as he had expected but he was philosophical now he knew the truth.  In fact he felt positively saintly at having put Miss Granger’s wellbeing above his own pleasure.  There would be time enough for that in the next few days, he was sure.

oOo

The Professor had just reached a really gripping bit in his book when he was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door.

 

He debated ignoring it, certain he had no desire to talk to any of the house’s residents at this time of night. But curiosity got the better of him and he opened the door, to find the same curly haired witch as before in his doorway.

 

Severus watched with amusement as various emotions flitted across her face before she settled on a slightly naughty smile. 

 

“Miss Granger, I thought I made it clear that I didn’t expect to see you again until tomorrow?”

 

“Professor, I was thinking… I know that I messed up your plans for this evening, and I know you will want another night as your part of the deal, but as you can see, I need a bath, and I thought maybe we could combine goals.  Care to join me?”  She raised an eyebrow questioningly, “I’m sure I could make the rest of your evening pleasant even if not exactly in the way we originally intended. You could call it a part payment if you like?”

 

For one glorious moment he was speechless.  He’d got past the idea of messing around with her in bed, but a shared bath spoke of unexpected levels of intimacy - more than merely a transaction.  Before he’d even really had a chance to get his brain in gear he could hear a distinctly baser part of himself telling her, “Very well, but no flowery bath oils or similar, and absolutely _no bubbles_.”

oOo

The bathroom on the first floor was the biggest so they went there.  Hermione had already set out towels and applied warming and fluffing charms on them in expectation, figuring he would never know if he had declined. She also had a bath oil to hand that she promised was neither floral nor overtly feminine. She held it up for him to give his olfactory approval.  The oil had hints of citrus with thyme and basil - she was sure he would like it.

 

He took a sniff and pronounced it ‘adequate’.  Hermione, well versed in Snape-speak after six years in his classroom, took that to mean he thought it rather pleasant so poured a liberal amount under the running water.  

 

Once the bath was drawn to her satisfaction she cast a _scourgify_ on herself to get rid of the worst of the dust and muck, wondering as she did so why on earth she hadn't done that several hours ago.  She’d been so focused on getting back that she hadn’t even thought about it.

 

"That's better," she commented to her bathing partner, "At least that's got the worst off."  She pulled off her jeans unselfconsciously, balling her socks up as they came off too.  She could tell he was watching her but that was fine. After all they were going to share a bed. Nudity was a given. Besides she wasn't vain. She liked her body well enough most of the time - it was strong and did what she wanted it to do. Looks were secondary. Apart from one thing...

 

She stood in front of him in her long sleeved top and knickers, her fingers plucking at the hem of her top.

 

"Um, I should warn you, I have some scars..."

 

He raised an eyebrow, "And you presume I don't?"

 

"Well, no, but I didn't want you to be shocked."  She was uneasy - she hadn't shown this to anyone. No one except the inhabitants of Shell Cottage during her recovery had seen Bellatrix's handiwork.  Hermione was always very careful to wear long sleeves and a mild distraction glamour.  Plus of course there was the long scar across her front from the Department of Mysteries, and countless marks from the final battle. Healing herself quickly hadn't been a priority so they had inevitably scarred.

 

Taking a deep breath for resolve she pulled her top off, leaving her stood before him in her plain white bra and knickers.

 

From the way his eyes roamed hungrily over her, the last thing on his mind were her imperfections.

 

"Lovely," he declared.

 

She rewarded him with a shy smile. "I know I'm still a bit skinny, but it's improving slowly. At least I feel fit and healthy now, unlike a few weeks ago."

 

"And again, I point to my own physique," he said wryly as he began to unbutton his shirt, "Thin and scarred sums me up pretty well I'm afraid."

 

Hermione looked with interest as he divested himself of his shirt. Sure enough, there was little spare flesh covering his bones, and his pale skin was covered in the faint criss-cross of silvery lines from past hurts. However, his chest and arms were well shaped from carting cauldrons around and he didn’t have a belly. She thought he looked rather splendid actually, and eyed the trail of dark hairs that led to his groin with interest of her own.

 

"You _are_ thin, but I like it. It suits you."  She grinned up at him, "I can't quite imagine you as a tanned, muscle-strapped quidditch player, Professor."

 

He gave a rather undignified snort in response, which made her grin even wider.

 

She turned her back on him and removed her bra and knickers before pinning her hair up and climbing into the steaming water. "Ooh that's nice,". She lay back against the edge with her eyes shut, enjoying the heat. "I can't believe how much dust there is floating around the castle from the rebuild. Every single room seems to be full of it.  We need a giant vacuum cleaner or something to suck it all up."

 

Hermione was aware he hadn’t yet moved.  Opening her eyes she sat up and looked at him - still in his trousers seemingly lost in thought watching her in the water.  “This isn’t a spectator sport Professor.  Are you coming in?”

 

He snapped out of it and finally managed to raise his gaze far enough up to meet her eyes.  She was amused to see a light blush stain his cheeks.  She knew full well that he had been watching her breasts, which were tantalisingly dipping in and out of the water as she moved about.  ‘ _I never thought I’d think this without being on the receiving end of a hex, but it is rather amusing to tease him,’_ Hermione thought smugly, feeling rather buoyed up by her body’s effect on him.

 

Taking pity on the poor man she closed her eyes again and lay back - this time sliding a little further down into the bath so her nipples were under the water. Finally there was the sound of buttons being undone and the swoosh of wool trousers being removed and folded. Fighting her curiosity she managed to keep her eyes closed until she felt him ease himself into the bath on the opposite side of the tub facing her. 

 

There were a few moments of humour as their legs got tangled when he tried to straighten his and it became clear the bath just wasn’t big enough for them to share it that way.

 

“If I just…” Hermione said, trying to manoeuvre herself around his long legs without prodding anything delicate under the water, slipping and sliding around thanks to the bath oil. 

 

“Merlin’s beard witch!  Are you trying to emasculate me with that foot?”  He grabbed the offending appendage making her squeal as she slid further down into the bath and began to struggle against him, splashing water everywhere.

 

“Let go!”

 

“No,” he growled, “Not until you promise to stay absolutely still until we work this out.  Honestly, this was your idea,” he grumbled, feeling put out that this wasn’t yet the erotic treat he had been promised (although the oiled breasts bobbing in front of him did go some way to appeasing him).

 

She stilled completely.  He was right, this wasn’t working.  “How about if you lean against the bath, Sir, and I lean on you?  That way there should be space for your legs.” _‘And it means I can enjoy the feel of your chest against my back, among other even more delicious things.’_

 

“Hmmm. Stand up.”   He ordered brusquely.

 

She wiggled her foot gently, reminding him that he still had hold of it. When he finally released it she grabbed hold of the edges of the bath and slowly stood up, well aware she was giving him an excellent view of her whole body as she did so.  She stood facing him and blushed as he narrowed his eyes in a deliberate leer.

 

“Well, Miss Granger, clearly there is something to be said for shared baths after all.” 

 

She turned around, giving him a good look at her bum and then sank back into the hot water.  He immediately pulled her back onto his chest and rested one arm around her waist and one on the rim of the bath, anchoring them both. 

 

At first it was a little strange to be sharing the water and the silence was a touch awkward.   They had touched frequently when dancing but it had always been very proper. This was anything _but._ However she quickly relaxed, enjoying the gentle rise and fall of his chest as she lay there, half asleep as she unwound from the stresses of the day. She wanted this after all, there was no need for excessive nerves. 

 

“The girls in the dorm used to talk about sharing the prefect’s bath with a boy,” she commented idly, her eyes closed, “I didn’t realise it would be as lovely as this.”

 

“You’ve never done this before?”  He was surprised.  “Then why did you suggest it?”

 

“I just thought it would be nice… I don’t know really.”

 

He hmmed and the deep reverberations travelled through his chest to her. She sighed and leant into him even further.  It really was relaxing. When she had first laid against him she had felt the evidence of his arousal in the small of her back but neither of them had commented on it and it had softened again.  She deliberately refrained from speculating about it - there would be time enough for that when they made it to the bedroom.

 

“What did you do today, Sir?”  She played with his arm as she spoke, idly drawing patterns and runes with her fingers.

 

“What?” He too was half asleep, lulled into a pleasant state.

 

“Today. What did you do? I realised when I was stuck in the library that I wasn’t really sure what you did these days as you aren’t teaching. I set up the lab in the basement here and it’s not been used so I know you aren’t brewing.”

 

“This and that,”  he was slightly evasive, trying to think of anything productive he’d done that day. Instead he distracted her by telling her about the book he was reading, which led to a delightful conversation on the practicalities of international portkeys to Guatemala and if the school summer holidays were long enough to make a decent visit of it.

 

Before she knew it the water had cooled and they were both more than a little water-pruned.  Hermione sighed and sat up.  “I suppose we should get out, it’s getting cold.”

 

“We could,” he replied silkily, “But you haven’t achieved the primary goal of bathing yet.”

 

“Oh?” She was intrigued and a little confused.

 

“Usually people take a bath to get clean,” the Professor prompted.

 

“Oh!” This time Hermione smiled, even though he couldn’t see it.  “Well, that would be an oversight wouldn’t it.”  Reaching out she picked up the bar of soap from the side and started to lather her hands. To her surprise he stopped her then took the bar himself.

 

“Lean forward while you do your legs,” he told her, waiting until she did so to move himself.  Then he took the bar and gently soaped her back, using his hands to ensure every spot of her was cleansed from the nape of her neck to the base of her spine.  Next he pulled her back against his chest to do her arms. He hissed when he saw the scarring on her forearm - something he’d not noticed previously, being too focused on nearly-naked woman in front of him.  “Who did this?”  he asked harshly, running his fingers over the letters.

 

“Bellatrix LeStrange.” Hermione’s voice was grim,  “When we got taken to Malfoy Manor she tortured me to find out where we got the sword from.”

 

He frowned and stroked the area again.  “She always was a vindictive bitch.  Used to dip her knives in poison before using them so they were hard to heal and guaranteed to scar.”

 

“That sounds familiar.  Nothing we did magically could speed up the process - dittany didn’t work at all.” She looked down at it herself, somewhat dispassionately.  She had resigned herself to bearing a permanent reminder of the war, but had secretly hoped there was a way of diminishing it.  If anyone knew of one it would be a Potions Master.  ‘ _Looks like I’m stuck with it.’_ She thought sadly.

 

“What else did she do to you?”  His voice was sharp with thinly controlled anger.  He hadn’t known the full details of the final days of war and his recovery post-war had left him somewhat out of the loop. 

 

“Oh, a lot of nasty threats relating to being given to Greyback as his plaything and a few bouts of cruciatus.  I survived though, that’s the important thing.  And,” she added smugly, “she didn’t find out what she wanted to know either - she never did discover how we got the sword.”

 

“I can give you something for the tremors,” he promised, “Remind me later.”

 

She twisted in the bath and knelt to face him.  “Thank you, that would be really appreciated. I’ve been managing them ok but I’m a bit worried about how they will be over the winter if they haven’t lessened by then.”

 

“It will get easier with time,” he told her, absently soaping his hands as he did then running them over her arms and down to her fingers, splaying each hand to get in between each digit.  “It takes a while for the nerves to regenerate but once they do the sensations will be diminished.”

 

Hermione was delighted with this.  She hadn’t liked to raise it with anyone as there always seemed to be someone in more urgent need of care whenever she was in front of a mediwitch or wizard but it had preyed on her mind.  This was really good news.

 

The Professor still had the soap in his hands.  “Do you want to finish off?”  he asked politely, offering her the soap. 

 

She looked down and then up at him.  Her eyes sparkled as she told him he might as well continue as he’d done such a good job of her back. 

 

He laughed, rich and true, then pulled her closer.  “Very well, witch, I’ll make sure you are clean enough for your bed tonight.”

 

Taking the soap between his dexterous fingers he carefully ran it over her collar bone from one shoulder to the other.  Then, trailing carefully in the dip between her breasts he spread his fingers out he covered her stomach in suds, using both hands to slide up to her armpits, and then smooth down to her hips. 

 

“I think you missed a bit,” she told him cheekily.

 

“Patience, you.  Or I’ll stop now.”

 

She obediently sat back and put her hands deliberately by her side, giving him full access.  He continued to soap her stomach for a few more seconds, mainly to tease her.  Her stomach tightened in delicious anticipation as she held herself still and tried not to squirm.  Then he slid his hands up over her breasts, cupping them and running his thumbs over her rosy pink nipples.  She couldn’t help but give as gasp at his touch in such a sensitive place.

 

“You have gorgeous tits,” he told her, gently squeezing them, “they are the perfect size to fit in my hands.”

 

Her cheeks were as pink as her nipples as he continued to play, ensuring they were quite throughly clean.  Finally he sighed and scooped some water up and rinsed away the suds from her torso.

 

“There, all done pet.”  

 

“Thank you.”  She took the soap back. “Did you want me to do you?”

 

“Ahhh, perhaps another time Miss Granger.  I confess I’m rather too tired now to enjoy it properly. It’s been a long day and its late.”

 

She took a couple of moments to rinse herself off and then pulled the plug as she got up and out of the bath and wrapped herself in a big fluffy towel. Holding one out for him too she quickly dried, studiously avoiding looking at him as she felt inexplicably shy all of a sudden.

 

There was silence between them again but this time it felt good, companionable. The bath had been a good idea - it had given her a chance to explore some intimacy with him before she took the next step.  Speaking of which…

 

“Sir, I think I should tell you something.”

 

He raised an eyebrow as he buttoned his shirt.  “Go on,” he prompted.

 

“Sharing a bath isn’t the only new thing I’ll be doing with you. I’m a virgin.”

 

Severus Snape stilled then sat down on the edge of the bath. “Right.  So you are untouched, and yet you thought it a good idea to agree to bed me?”

 

“Well it’s not like I’ve been saving myself for my wedding night or anything,” she retorted angrily.  “But forgive me if I spent the last couple of years trying very hard not to get killed as well as saving Harry and the rest of wizarding kind.  I didn’t exactly get time to experiment.”

 

He ran a hand tiredly through his hair.  This wasn’t what he had expected at all.  Sure, she was innocent, but he didn’t realise she was _that_ innocent. “At school?” he enquired.

 

“Did you _see_ my course load?” she countered. “Plus, there wasn’t anyone who I wanted to kiss let alone sleep with.  Seriously, it’s not a big deal, I just didn’t want to do something completely stupid tomorrow without you being forewarned that I don’t know what I’m doing. I mean, I’ve read some books… but I get the feeling sex requires hands on learning.”  She ended with a wink, trying hard to bring back the good mood they had both been in.

 

He gave her a minuscule smirk and she knew she was in part forgiven for springing this on him.  “Yes, Miss Granger, you will find that the realities differ somewhat from the text.” He sighed, “I won’t hold it against you if you choose to change your mind about our agreement. I don’t want you to regret this.”

 

“I won’t,” she told him firmly.  “Now, what time shall I come to your room tomorrow?  I’m due to be at a tea in the afternoon with Hestia and Andromeda Tonks so I won’t be in danger of making it two days in a row that I get stuck at the castle.” 

 

They were both dressed now and the bath was drained.  Picking up the various accoutrements she waited for him to open the door. 

 

“An hour after dinner, as before, I think.” He told her. Reaching down he kissed her gently on the lips then softly wished her a goodnight before they parted in the hallway to return to their respective bedrooms.  It had been a surprisingly sweet way to spend the evening, and both were glad she had invited him.

 

oOo

At 8pm on the dot the following night a familiar knocking sound interrupted Severus’ reading. He opened the door with a wave of his wand to find his curly haired witch standing there with a sweet smile.

 

“Shall we try again Professor?” 

 

He gestured for her to come into the room then flicked his wand, locking the door and silencing the room.  “Oh yes Miss Granger, I think we shall.”

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter you've all been waiting for...

Hermione entered her Professor’s room with a mix of confidence and nerves.  She was looking forward to the evening ahead, especially after the spectacular non-starter the previous day to whet her appetite. It had been _such_ a disappointment to have missed out after all the anticipation, let alone the worry from letting him down. Hermione had known Snape long enough to know he had the tenacity of a niffler searching for gold when it came to holding grudges… if he’d decided she had purposely snubbed him by not turning up then she knew she would never get a second chance.

 

Luckily though this wasn’t the case and her idea of bathing with him had also gone down well and, she thought, made substantial inroads into appeasing him for the spoiled evening. Plus she didn’t mind admitting she had enjoyed it.  It had been more than pleasant to lie back in the scented and steaming water and listen to him talk about his book.  Despite their current arrangement to sleep with each other, conversation between them had been limited and Hermione appreciated the chance to get to know him a little better.  After all, his mind was what had attracted her to him in the first place.  It wasn’t that she regretted her deal with him as such, but she was certainly grateful for any time they got to spend together beforehand outside of the bedroom first.  It was somewhat daunting to imagine bedding her revered and much respected former Professor - not because he would necessarily be intimidating (although she frequently wondered if he was capable of being anything else) but because she wanted so desperately to impress him and knew full well that the fumblings of an inexperienced virgin were highly unlikely to do so.

 

Hermione thought with good humour that given she was a _war hero_ these days and a darling of the wizarding world she really should get over her obsession with Professorial approval. 

 

Still, she wasn’t above using all the advantages she had, and subsequently when she knocked on his door she was freshly showered in a clean sundress with pretty underwear underneath, carrying a bottle of chilled white wine and two glasses. The appreciative look her Professor had shown when he glanced at her and then at the bottle label had told her she’d made the right decision on the warm summer’s evening and was off to a good start.

 

“Dutch courage?” he arched an eyebrow enquiringly.

 

She laughed lightly, “Something like that, yes.”

 

He motioned her to the bed where she had sat the previous day and busied himself opening the wine and pouring them both a glass.  She took the opportunity to look at him and around his room, enjoying the chance to be nosy. 

 

It was a light and bright room, surprisingly given her Professor’s usual habitat in the Hogwart’s dungeons.  Not big, but none of the bedrooms at Grimmauld Place were spacious.  The bed was standard for the house, as was the wardrobe and chest of drawers.  She brushed the bedcover behind her with the tips of her fingers.  The crisp white cotton sheets were fresh and soft under her hand and there was a cosy looking navy blue throw on the end.  His chair - an elegant wingback - looked well worn and slightly out of place in the room and she guessed it was his own and not part of the house.  Unsurprisingly, given they were all there temporarily, there were no pictures on the walls or much in the way of personal affects.  However what there was in great abundance was _books_. They were stacked by the bed and against the wall in great towering piles, and on top of the chest as a makeshift bookcase, plus several by his chair which looked to be in current use. Hermione’s eyes lit up at the sight and she was itching to get up and have a good look.  

 

Her Professor handed her a glass of wine and sat back down in his chair.  He was, as usual, clad in a pair of black trousers and a white shirt.  He’d left the frock coat off, which she was unsurprised about given the warmth of the summer’s evening. She noted with an internal grin that he’d left his dragon hide boots off too and was padding around in black socks. Somehow seeing the intensely private and buttoned-up man without shoes made it all so much more intimate, even though they had been naked the previous day in the bath.

 

Silence reigned.

 

“Um…” She started, then stopped, feeling foolish at such an inane opening. Luckily for her, the Professor took up the mantle of instigating conversation.

 

“I believe, Miss Granger, I spent 3 hours escorting you at the ball this week once the dinner and auction were completed.  Therefore, I expect your company tonight for the same amount of time.  Is that acceptable?”

 

“I guess so… that does seem fair,” she admitted.  “So, now you have me here, what are you going to do with me?”  She took a sip of her wine and grinned at him over her glass.

 

“That, Miss Granger, is for me to know and for you to just wait and see,” he replied archly. Truth be told he didn’t really have much planned for the evening.  Given that all this was new to her, and they were new to each other, he hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up too highly for anything specific.  He only made the comment about the time to see how she would react.

 

Severus was used to his conquests being far easier to bed than Miss Granger was turning out to be. Usually he met them in a pub or at an event.  He never found it difficult to find a woman to fuck - he might not be a muscled adonis but he knew full well how to use his dark exterior and silky baritone voice to seduce… for one night, or occasionally many.  Sometimes they stayed around for a while but inevitably any relationship he had was short-lived. There were few that were actually interesting enough for him to even consider it in the first place. Then he couldn’t risk getting close to anyone whilst a Death Eater for fear of putting them at risk. Besides, not that many were willing to overlook the fact he lived in a creaky old castle full of school children for most of the year.  They all knew the score though - they were both there for sex and that was it. He didn’t have to worry overly about hurt feelings or what they would think in the morning.

 

And therein lay the rub. The biggest challenge with Miss Granger, in Severus’s mind, was not the bedding of, but the morning after. How was he to ensure that her _first time_ \- he sneered inwardly at such a trite teenage concept - was mutually pleasant? He wasn’t going to offer her romance and false promises, but nor was he going to just screw her and leave. It was uncharted waters for him and he approached as he would a volatile potion - slowly and with a great deal of caution and care. 

 

His first task was to make the girl relax.  He knew she was relatively comfortable in her skin, having watched her undress in front of him without an excess of modesty, and that their kisses had shown an acceptable level of chemistry.  However she was wound a little tight for his liking just then.

 

“Miss Granger, I seem to recall you were reading a copy of the latest version of ‘Magical Drafts and Potions’ at dinner the other day.  Tell me, what did you think to the revisions to the cauldron size to stirrer ratio that Jigger proposes?”

 

“Well,” she replied excitedly, leaning forward…

 

With that they were off and running.  Twenty minutes of heated conversation later and they were both noticeably easier with each other, just as Severus had hoped.  He knew full well the best way to make her forget her surroundings was to get her brain working on something else.  Now she looked relaxed - her sandals had been kicked off and she sat with her legs curled up beneath her on his bed, wine glass in hand as she gesticulated fiercely to defend her point.  Besides, he’d wanted to talk to someone about the changes since he’d read them but found Grimmauld Place sadly lacking in informed opinions when it came to Potions, despite the enjoyable intellectual mix around the dinner table. ‘ _A Slytherin never does anything without at least three different motives,’_ he thought smugly as he topped up their wine glasses and fired off yet another opinionated remark just to watch her splutter her indignant response.  

 

oOo

Hermione wasn’t stupid and she knew full well he was deliberately engaging her in conversation for ulterior motives.  However it was working in her favour, and she rather enjoyed debating with him now he couldn’t take house points from her or throw her into detention.  To her surprise she found him to be considerate when it came to her opinion and he appeared to give it genuine thought, even when it contradicted his own.  She had expected him to sneer and talk over her as he would have done back in his classroom, and this more controlled response was more than she had hoped for. It was almost like… ‘ _He’s treating me like an adult. Gosh!’_ she thought with surprise.  To have been upgraded from student to near equal was heady praise indeed.

 

Eventually there was nothing left for either of them to argue.  Hermione had conceded that the Potions _Master_ was probably right, and deferred to his greater experience.  She was feeling slightly buzzed from the glass or so of wine she’d drunk although nowhere near inebriated.  However it had done the trick and she was feeling far braver than when she’d knocked on his door. Time to up the ante.

 

“As fascinating as this is, Sir, I don’t think you brought me here to discuss cauldrons all night?”

 

“No” his voice growled suggestively, “I didn’t. In fact pet, why don’t you come over here and sit with me?”  He patted his knee, indicating where he wanted her to sit.

 

She paused for a second. This was it - the point of no return. Of course, she was sure that actually she could back out at any point up to and including the act itself and he would respond instantly and respect her decision.  However this was the moment where she willingly went to him knowing where it would end up.  She thought about all her options - all the very willing boys and men out there who wanted to date the celebrity she now was, and she thought about that first night in the kitchen where she’d seen her Professor as a man rather than a sexless educator and wanted him fiercely.  Quite frankly, it was no contest.

 

She stood and did her best to walk seductively towards him.  It was a bit ropey as she didn’t exactly have much practice in moving gracefully, but he had the decency to look appreciatively at her rather than laugh, so she counted it as a win.  Hermione debated saying something witty and suggestive but wisely decided that she could never compete with him when it came to vocal allure or clever remarks and instead simply perched on his knee. 

 

The Professor immediately put one arm around her waist and pulled her close to him so she sat on his lap on the chair with her back to his chest. 

 

“That’s better,” she could hear his voice rumbling through her ribcage. “Now, little Gryffindor, some choices,”

 

As he spoke he leant across to the windowsill and put down his glass.  Then with his now empty hand he stroked her hair away from her shoulder and neck on one side, leaving it free for him to nuzzle. She gave a small gasp when she felt his lips on her collarbone and he suppressed a small grin at her responsiveness.

 

“Some choices?” She was proud of the way her voice remained steady, despite the delicious feeling of the little nips and kisses he was bestowing on her skin while his other hand held her comfortingly in place.

 

“Oh yes. I’ve decided that as this is all new to you that I’d give you some options for the evening.  Don’t think you’ll get this every time Miss Granger, because you won’t.  Sometimes I’ll ask you for something specific and that will be it.  But tonight I’m feeling generous.”  He warned her between kisses which he peppered on her neck and shoulder. 

 

“That does indeed sound generous Sir,”  Hermione cursed herself internally for being unable to do more than simple parrot his words back to him, but she could hardly think over the sensations. For an area of skin that was relatively ‘safe’ his actions felt _amazing._ She stifled a squeal as he chose a particularly tender spot on the dip in her collar bone and began to suck and worry it with his teeth.  “Merlin!” she gasped and leant back into him to give him full access, feeling herself turning to jelly while her insides burned.  Even his teasing of her nipples in the bath the previous day hadn’t felt as good as this!

 

The Professor finally stopped teasing her skin and drew back slightly, smugly noting that the spot was turning red already.  He was a possessive man and it was instinct to mark his territory. 

 

“You like that pet, do you?  That’s interesting,” he murmured under his breath, pleased she was enjoying a little pain with her pleasure.  It opened up whole worlds of sensual experiences he could introduce if she was willing to move beyond vanilla… but he was getting ahead of himself.  ‘ _It’s just tonight,’_ he told himself sternly, _‘forget about what might be in the future and focus on now.  If you don’t stuff this up perhaps she’ll be persuaded to return and then you can fulfil whatever fantasies she’ll let you get away with.’_ “Now, as I said, you have some choices. Put simply, my desire tonight is for us both to orgasm.  My choice would be through penetrative sex, but given your lack of experience, if you preferred I would accept for us to explore manually, or orally instead.”

 

“Oh. _Oh!”_   She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, much to her chagrin.  Really it was ridiculous to get embarrassed discussing an act when she was about to fulfil it, and was more than eager to do so. “Um, well, I’m not adverse to any of those really.  Perhaps we could aim for, uh, penetrative sex and see how we go?”  she offered, somewhat timidly, cringing at the clinical term.

 

He tightened his hold of her and kissed the mark he’d made on her delicate skin again. “Excellent decision, Miss Granger,” he growled.  “I think we should start with removing this little dress of yours.”   He let go of her hair and ran his hands down her sides, sliding them back up to rest on her thighs under the skirt of her summery dress.  

 

She squirmed in his lap. The feel of those deliciously long fingers on her was intoxicating, especially when he started to run them up and down her bare legs, his thumbs circling as he did, each pass edging slightly higher.  Her legs fell open instinctively and she felt him chuckle into her shoulder. 

 

“I see someone is eager,” he teased.  “As you should be. Enthusiastic _bed warmers_ are infinitely preferable to shy and demure ones in my book.”

 

She could hear the tacit approval in his comment and took heart from it.  She didn’t have to be accomplished to please him today, just willing.  ‘ _I can do willing,’_ she thought, ‘ _If nothing else, I can definitely do willing.’_

 

He slid his hands back up to her neck and then down her back, sliding the zipper of her dress down as he went.  He nudged her off his lap and back to standing, still facing away from him.  She went to turn around but a hand on her waist stalled her. “Not yet, pet. Let me lead you for now.”

 

She shivered at the anticipation evident in the slow enunciation of every syllable. He was clearly enjoying having her at his mercy for once.  His hands ghosted down her arms again and then he started to gently peel her dress from her, allowing it to slip and slide down her body until it pooled at her feet. Next came her bra, carefully unclasped and dropped to join her dress on the floor, his fingers doing nothing more intimate than brushing her ribs, much to her frustration. Her hair was once again pulled to one side, leaving her back bared to him.

 

She remained still, waiting to see what he would do next. 

 

He did not disappoint.

 

One finger slowly traced down her spine from the nape of her neck to the top of her buttocks, stroking the edge of her panties.  This was followed by feather-light kisses along the same route - so gentle she felt his hair brushing against her skin with more force.  His hands were on her hips, both holding her still and offering reassurance and something for her to ground herself with.

 

She gasped, “Sir!” and he chuckled again.  Then she felt him guiding her forward a step or two before he stood behind her, encouraging her towards the bed.

 

“Lay down,” his voice was silky and oh-so-smooth as he directed her.  “I want to start by exploring you.  You are a very lovely young woman, pet, and I want to take my time.”

 

“O-okay,” she stammered, then shifted her head back to look up at him and grin, amused at her inability to talk coherently already.  As she met his eyes her smile died - his always black eyes were even darker with lust. She was yet again aware this was no inexperienced boy.  Sliding on to the bed, she pushed herself up to rest her head on his pillows. Her hands were in the way - where to put them?  Finally she settled on having them at her sides, surreptitiously gripping on to the soft cotton bedding.

 

 

oOo

Severus looked down at the woman on his bed and smirked.  She really was lovely, and very responsive too.  It was all too easy to divorce her in his mind from the annoying brat he’d taught for all those years.  After all, having taught for twenty years, pretty much every younger woman he met had been through his classroom at some point. 

 

He glanced down at her again.  He was definitely going to enjoy this.  The sight of her virtually naked whilst he was fully clothed was quite delicious, ‘ _As are those little panties.  White with a little touch of lace… she couldn’t look any more virginal if she tried.’_   Taking out his wand he cast on himself and then on her - “Contraceptive charms,” he informed her before she’d had a chance to ask.  He took his time putting it carefully on the bedside table, knowing full well the value of a dramatic pause, before crawling up the bed to straddle her, resting on his hands and knees to avoid touching her yet.

 

Once he was eye level with the girl, he leant down slowly and kissed her softly on the mouth. She responded so sweetly that he barely managed to stifle a groan as her tongue slipped into his mouth. It had been a long while since he had indulged in so much time with merely kissing, yet it was such a pleasant part of foreplay with the right partner.  Ending it slightly regretfully, he moved down her throat and then her chest, planting little kisses as he went until he reached her tight rosy nipples that just begged to be laved with his tongue and teased until she begged for him for more…

 

Eventually he lifted his head.  Her cheeks were flushed and her breath was coming out in shallow gasps.  Severus allowed himself a moment of smugness that she was clearly already aroused and they had only just got started. Sitting up he began unbuttoning his shirt, wanting to feel her soft skin against his. 

 

She sat up too. “Let me help you with that,” her hands reaching out already to his buttons. 

 

With a smirk he put his hands on his knees, allowing her full access.  She glanced up at him, meeting his eyes and grinning, then carried on where he had left off with the shirt.  He looked down at her biting her lip in concentration as she undid his buttons one by one, revealing his chest, before reaching for the cuffs to undo those too.  She paused at his neck, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of the snake-bite scar.

 

“Does it hurt?”

 

“A little,” he admitted, “It’s getting better though.  The venom through my bloodstream was harder to heal than the bite itself.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

He quirked an eyebrow at that.  “Why? It wasn’t your fault, and if it is some misplaced guilt about leaving me in the Shrieking Shack then can I state here and now I expected nothing less from you,” he told her sternly, “There were bigger things at stake than my wellbeing, like saving us all from the Dark Lord.  Now, enough of that before you completely ruin the mood.”

 

“Again, I’m sorry,” she apologised with a smile, and proceeded to kiss her way down his chest to his belly button and below, tracing the trail of hair leading down with her tongue until she felt him shudder with pleasure.  Hiding a self satisfied grin at having managed to affect him so, she moved back up and pulled the open shirt down off his arms. He slid the shirt off completely and with a wave of his hand it folded itself and landed on his chair.

 

“You want to carry on?” He arched an eyebrow in query, still kneeling on the bed.

 

“Is that ok?” Again her lip was between her teeth.

 

“You may,” he confirmed, smirking at the way her eyes lit up at the idea of getting her hands on him.

 

She carefully undid the buttons on his fly, brushing against his hard length as she did. Now it was his turn to gasp at the feel of those little fingers touching him so delicately, especially when she discovered he wasn’t wearing anything underneath.  Her exploration of him was unconsciously sensual as she drew his cock out and stroked it, clearly fascinated.  ‘ _Trust Miss Granger to make everything a learning experience,’_ he thought wryly as she examined him in great detail. 

 

He bore it for what felt like an age before her touches grew more confident and his self control started to slip.  Seeing her starting to lean over with a slightly open mouth he took evasive action. Placing his hands on top of hers, Severus gently disengaged her before he stood up and removed his trousers, tossing them on top of his chair too. 

 

“Too much of a good thing, Miss Granger,” he explained ruefully.  “Hmmm, I think you are looking a little overdressed there.”

 

He stood in front of her in all his naked glory, looking at the flushed girl on his bed who was eyeing him appreciatively.  She gave him a little smile and shimmied out of her knickers, leaving her as naked as him. He felt himself grow even harder under her lustful gaze and it took all his remaining will power (and the reminder to himself that she was, as yet, untouched) to remain standing and not to ravish her that very second.  He’d seen her naked the day before of course, in the bath, but this was different. She looked wanton, sprawled across his bed, her legs slightly spread giving him a glimpse of her pussy.

 

“Come here, Professor,” Hermione beckoned and was gratified when he immediately lowered himself onto the bed beside her and kissed her again. His hands were busy too, with one stroking her from her knee all the way up her inner thigh, tantalisingly close but not quite getting to where she needed it.  With a groan she succumbed and ended the kiss for long enough to beg, “Touch me, _please_.”  She felt rather than saw him smirk before those wickedly long fingers were finally brushing over her clit and up inside her.

 

“Merlin you’re tight,” he murmured as he explored her, taking his time to prepare her as well as he could.  With his thumb he gently rolled her clit in a rhythmic fashion whilst his fingers were busy sliding in and out of her, stretching her as best he could.  He knew the sex was more than likely to be painful for her, and she was unlikely to orgasm given all the unfamiliar sensations, so he intended to take her there first.  With one hand busy in her hot pussy, the other snaked up to pinch and pull on her nipples, teasing them to hard nubs.  He leant over as best he could and started to whisper in her ear, knowing full well the seductive properties of his own voice.

 

“Let me tell you what I’m going to do now, Miss Granger,” he rumbled, loving the sight of her gasping and squirming under him, “I’m going to make you come, and then I’m going to fuck that tight sweet cunt of yours.  You look positively edible right now, do you know?  Next time I might just do that… lie you down and eat you until you are begging me to stop.  How many orgasms do you think I’ll drag out of you before I let you leave? Three?  Four?”

 

With an incoherent scream Hermione came harder than she’d ever done before. The combination of the dirty talk and his divine fingers was impossible for her to resist. He continued to stroke her gently as she came down from her climax until she shuddered one last time and pushed his hand away.

 

“Oh god… That was… Wow… I… Sir, you are _brilliant_!” She flashed him the biggest toothiest smile he had ever seen as she lay boneless across the mattress. “Whew!  That was amazing, and we haven’t even fucked yet!”

 

“A state easily rectified pet,” he growled, aching for completion himself.  Her eyes were warm as she pulled him down on top of her. “This will probably hurt,” he cautioned, “But I’ll be as gentle as possible.”  He slowly lowered himself into her, kissing away her gasp of pain. He waited until the tension had bled from her features before he buried himself up the hilt and then cautiously moved within her. 

 

She was so hot and tight that he could hardly bear it, especially with all the little noises of encouragement she was making and the way her hands gripped his shoulders as she rose to meet his thrusts.  All too soon he found himself past the point of no return and climaxed with a roll of his eyes and a groan. 

 

He lay on top of her for a long moment, trying to catch his breath before rolling to lay beside her. Opening one eye he surveyed her eager expression and the way she looked like she was about to burst. It was one he knew all too well from his classroom - a Miss Granger who had just made an exciting discovery and wanted to ask a thousand questions about it.  Before she could even open her mouth he pulled her into his chest and with a barely intelligible grunt told her “sleep now, questions tomorrow,” before closing his eyes and succumbing to the blissful sleep of the well sated.

 

Hermione giggled quietly at this display of typical male post-orgasm behaviour and snuggled down next to the lightly snoring Potions Master.  ‘ _Just five minutes,’_ she thought with a yawn, _‘Then I’ll go back to my own bed…’_

 

oOo

Severus awoke with a sigh, gave a jaw cracking yawn and was about to turn over and go back to sleep when he realised that the little Gryffindor was still in his bed. Not only that but she was cuddled up to him, tucked into his side where she fit perfectly.  He hadn’t intended for her to stay the night - usually he had no desire to share a bed in general, and his in particular, beyond the sexual act itself.  Years of spy work left him unwilling to be vulnerable enough to sleep in someone else’s presence so he was surprised to find himself well rested.

 

Clearly his awakening also disturbed her as she shifted and then opened her eyes.

 

“Good morning Miss Granger,” he rumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

 

“Oh! Good morning Sir, I _am_ sorry - I didn’t intend to fall asleep here,” she apologised.  “If you give me a minute I’ll be out of your way.”  She made to get up and was surprised when he pulled her back down into the bed with him.

 

“Not so fast. We have things to discuss, and now seems as good a time as any.”

 

He could tell even as he lay there with his eyes shut that she was biting her lip as she thought. He huffed slightly in amusement. She was so predictable.

 

“So, last night…I thought it was fun, and you seemed to be, uh, satisfied, I think. Are you happy to continue?” Her voice betrayed her worry although he could tell she’d attempted a light and indifferent tone. He knew that she was nowhere near as impartial as she made out, which in turn made him feel really rather good. After all, it was nice to be wanted.

 

“Yes, I think this arrangement compensates me… _adequately_. However, I warn you now pet, I am not a man who likes to share.”  At this he opened his eyes and propped himself up on one arm so he could see her. “Whilst we are involved in this way I expect you to refrain from warming any other wizard’s bed, if you want to use my original idiom. If you meet a dashing young man then you tell me first and we cancel this.  I’ll not be made a fool of,” he warned her.

 

“Sir, firstly, do I have to remind you that you are the only one to have touched me?” she rejoined tartly. “If I wasn’t inclined to go bed-hopping when I was free to do so, I’m hardly likely to do so now.”

 

“Be that as it may, I still require your word.”

 

“Fine then, I promise to remain faithful to you whilst you continue to be my escort, as agreed. I expect the same in return, of course?”

 

“Of course, Miss Granger. I would not insult you by offering anything less.”

 

“Good. Well now that’s settled… where do we go from here?”

 

“I rather thought a quick shower and then breakfast might be a good idea,” he replied smugly and gave a chuckle when she thumped him in the arm. 

 

“Ha ha! You know full well what I mean SIr.”

 

He lay back down and stretched languidly, feeling thoroughly pleased with himself. It was a beautiful day outside and he was tucked up in bed with a lovely young witch who had done her utmost to leave him sated the night before, even if her attempts had more enthusiasm than skill behind them.  Really, life couldn’t get much better at that moment, and he gave a brief burst of thanks to whatever divine spirit had saved him from bleeding to death in the Shrieking Shack that fateful day. 

 

“I think… we have ourselves a deal.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try not to do too many author notes as they get distracting, but I wanted to thank all of you who have commented and are following this story. It is fully mapped out, and there are a couple more chapters after this ready to post over the next week or so. After that I'm afraid updates will slow considerably. I start a Masters at university tomorrow so my free time for writing fiction is going to be sadly limited. That said, I'm very committed to this story and fully intend to complete it. I've already written the epilogue as incentive!! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

So _that_ was what all the fuss was about!

 

Hermione greeted Harry, Ron and Neville at the breakfast table the next morning with a little smile playing on her lips. She felt… different. It was a good different - like she had a delicious secret that only she knew about, and it made her want to hug herself with glee, or shout ‘I had sex last night and it was _amazing_ ’ so the whole house could hear. Looking back, it had been better than she had imagined it would be for an awkward first time, and she was pretty sure that it was the kind of thing that got even more fun with practice. And now she’d tried it she intended to _practice_ every opportunity she got with the Professor. In fact, she thought happily, she had a whole list of things she’d read about that he might be persuaded to try with her if she asked in the right way.

 

She almost expected everyone to notice that she was no longer a virgin as it felt like she was walking around with a big flashing sign on her forehead - ***Hermione Granger got shagged last night***. However one of the advantages of having almost exclusively male friends was their wilful inability to detect, especially when it came to anything personal. Even if they had been observant on a normal day, today the boys were chatting about quidditch so Hermione was able to safely ignore them and reflect without fear of being found out.

 

Hermione wondered if this feeling of exposure and _different_ was usual.   It wasn’t as if she had much information to go on other than books and half-heard conversations in the dorm. Not having any close girl friends meant she had never got to be part of a whispered giggly confession of how it felt the first time. Ron and Harry were great, but discussions on relationships with them usually involved alcohol, details she would really rather _not_ know about the prowess of her two best friends, and a stunned silence on their part if she dared to add any risqué details of her own.

 

Not that she’d really had any before…

 

Now though, she thought with amusement as she buttered some toast for breakfast, she could probably make both of them faint clean away if she told them who she’d slept with the previous night.

 

Sitting down on the wooden kitchen chair to eat her meal the young witch winced slightly. Apparently there were muscles in her inner thighs that she’d not known existed before which now ached from overuse. The Professor, a Potions Master to the end, had pressed a small phial of a healing potion into her hand before she left his room that morning. He’d told her to add it to a glass of juice before drinking, so she’d had to wait until now to take it and it hadn’t kicked in yet.  

 

Her insides felt a little sore too. He’d been gentle, but it was still unfamiliar territory. She’d felt… _full._ It was a strange sensation, having someone else’s body inside your own. In some ways the aches were welcomed actually as they made it all feel more real. Because Hermione thought that if she had woken in her own bed in her ratty old pyjamas she would have been inclined to think it had all been a dream, a lovely fantasy.

 

And then there was The Orgasm.

 

Well! That had been a revelation. She wasn’t completely innocent - she knew her own body and how to arouse herself. But it felt different with someone else’s fingers directing the fun. Not to mention the previously unknown pleasures of dirty talk. She sniggered under her breath, _‘If the Professor ever wanted to stop teaching he could make a fortune on premium rate phone lines with_ that _voice. I swear he could make a shopping list sound obscene.’_ She was glad he was no longer her teacher as it would be impossible to sit in his classroom and listen to him lecture without flashing back to his wonderfully lewd whispers.

 

Unfortunately she was brought out of her happy daydreams by the alarm on her wand, reminding her it was time to meet the team at Hogwarts for another morning of repairing the castle. Hermione had yet another busy day ahead with castle work in the morning and then a late afternoon PR event at the ministry. The only good thing about it was that Professor Snape was on the list to attend the afternoon too, so Hermione would have an excuse to see him. Quickly finishing her toast she headed back upstairs to grab her bag before flooing to the castle.

 

oOo

Hermione came out of the floo in the Head’s office to a full room. Hogwarts was busy as always with people and elves everywhere. There were magical building crews in doing all the big work but the castle was full of damage from the battle. Almost every one of its rooms needed to be cleaned and checked for unexpired traps and spells - there were literally hundreds of small jobs anyone with a wand could do. The house elves were all working as hard as possible to clean in between their normal duties but every hand was needed on deck if the school was to be ready to open again in September. As such, appeals had gone out to the magical community at large for volunteers to help and witches and wizards had responded in droves. It was an eclectic mix of the retired, housewives (and indeed househusbands) and the young - anyone who didn’t have a job to go to.  

 

Hermione wondered idly if she would be one of those coming back for the new school year.  She had hoped not - as much as she loved Hogwarts and everything it stood for, the war had changed them all and the last thing she felt was a schoolgirl. Those days were long gone. But the NEWTs…Now that was the quandary. The thought of officially leaving school without getting her qualifications left Hermione with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Getting into a good university would be almost impossible without them. She knew cynically that all she'd have to do really would be to throw her name around a bit. No one was going to deny the Gryffindor Princess a place wherever she wanted to go, but Hermione wanted to earn it and get in on academic merit. She'd worked hard through her school years and wanted something to show for that.

 

She added NEWTs to her mental list of things to discuss next time she was sitting near Professor McGonagall for dinner. Perhaps there was a way of taking them without having to actually attend the school for another year?

 

Putting thoughts of the future to one side, the witch concentrated on the instructions she and her team were given for the area of the castle to clear. It was hard physical work but she enjoyed it in a lot of ways. Here, after the first day or so as part of the team, she was just another wand - nothing special and certainly not treated any differently for being a _hero._ The anonymity was refreshing. Their order for the day was to check and clear the rooms near the Ancient Runes classrooms, and she set to with a light heart, still enjoying flashbacks to the fun she’d had the previous night.

 

oOo

 

The house was quiet. Everyone was off doing whatever they did during the day, leaving Severus in blessed silence.  After a lifetime living in a school with its hundreds of occupants he appreciated such peace whenever he could get it.  Today however he was a little out of sorts at being left.  He'd reached the point of his convalescence where he was well enough to do moderate activity, provided he didn't overexert himself and, for the first time since leaving the hospital, he found himself wishing he had a job to do. Besides, if he didn’t leave his room he would fritter away the whole morning feeling smug at having bedded Miss Granger the previous night.

 

Using his need for a cup of tea as an excuse he wandered through the shared downstairs rooms of the house, browsing the shelves in the library before ending up in the kitchen.  He put the kettle on and cast around for something to do to occupy his morning. Severus decided to investigate the small potions lab in the house basement.  He hadn't been in it for some time - ' _Perhaps a couple of years,_ ’ he thought, ' _Would have been before Albus died and my endless year as Headmaster. I didn’t come back here during that time after all._ ’  It had always been small but efficient - just enough space and supplies to brew for a large household plus the odd draught for the Order. Nothing as fancy as his lab at Spinners End, or indeed his private lab at Hogwarts, but he supposed it would do.

 

The door was just off the pantry at the back of the basement kitchen. He looked at the kettle sitting on top of the ancient aga and decided he had time to have a quick look.  

 

It was with trepidation he opened the door. Who knew what 2 years of neglect had done to the small space, or the potentially volatile ingredients stored within? Severus hadn’t outlived both of his masters by being foolhardy, so he cast a shielding charm over himself before looking through the doorway.

 

To his surprise the room was spotless. Equipment was stacked neatly on one end of the workbench and the two shelves of potions ingredients looked fresh and well organised. He discarded his shield and went to have a closer look.

 

Not only were the supplies new and of high quality, but they included ingredients far more exotic than he used to stock when he was in charge of the space. He allowed himself a small amused smile at the sight, recognising the influence of a certain Gryffindor know-it-all. In fact, he would be amazed if anyone but her had entered since he’d left.

 

Perusing the shelves, he took down bottles absently, thinking about what he could make in a morning given what he had in front of him. He settled on an obscure nerve repair salve - complicated in terms of process and too fiddly for anyone below a Master to attempt - but would be complete in 3 hours. He purposely _didn’t_ think about how it might help Miss Granger. Instead he told himself it would be handy for Poppy to have in her supplies. Summoning parchment and a quill he sat on the bench and jotted down the recipe as he remembered, adding notations for adjustments he would have to make given the supplies available to him.

 

After hearing the kettle boil Severus nipped back to the kitchen to make his drink. Mug of tea on the bench, he rolled up his sleeves and pulled his hair back into a neat queue before going to the sink and scrubbing his hands and arms. The familiar routine of preparing to brew a medical potion was soothing and he absently wondered how he’d managed to go so long without it.

 

“Right,” he said out loud as he reached for a cauldron and stand, “Time to brew.”

           

oOo

Severus had just finished decanting the salve into glass jars when he heard the murmur of voices from the kitchen as the occupants of 12 Grimmauld Place returned for lunch. He straightened up until his spine cracked, looking around the small room with satisfaction. He couldn’t help but feel immensely pleased with his morning’s work - brewing again had been a joy. His choice of potions had been inspired…it had been a long while since he’d attempted anything that complex and it had kept his mind occupied the whole time. Plus he’d had the pleasure of seeing the end result turn out exactly as it should have. ‘ _I’d almost forgotten how good it feels to make something with my own hands,’_ he thought to himself as he scrubbed the cauldron and stirring rod clean before wiping down the work bench.

 

In no time at all the lab was back to looking pristine. Severus was already half thinking about what he would make the following day, and wondering what potions books were in the Black library. He was sure he’d spotted an early edition of _Moste Potente Potions_ in there once when he was waiting for an Order meeting to start. There could be all kinds of hidden treasures in that book if he could find it, for potions went in and out of fashion like everything else and were soon forgotten.

 

With a final glance around to ensure everything was back in its place, Severus burst abruptly through the door and swept into the kitchen, causing both Potter and Longbottom to jump in surprise at his unexpected entrance. He hid a smile and stalked past them without comment.

 

“Where in Merlin’s name did _he_ come from?” Whispered Longbottom in his wake, but the Professor didn’t wait to hear Potter’s response. A glance at the clock in the hallway told him he was running late for his afternoon appointment. He wouldn’t have cared himself but Minerva got stroppy with them if they were late and he didn’t fancy listening to her ‘we must be professionals’ lecture _again_ that evening.

 

He quickly added a cravat and his frock coat to the trousers and shirt he had been wearing, buttoning it up to the top as he went back down the stairs. The ghouls always wanted to stare at his scar when he attended these things and he would be damned before he made it too easy for them.

 

On entering the library he saw Miss Granger already there, leafing through a book on one of the far shelves. She too was dressed formally, in navy robes.

 

“Miss Granger,” he nodded in greeting.

 

Hermione looked up from the page she was studying and gave him a swift smile. “Good afternoon Professor. Ready to face the delights of yet another Ministry meet and greet session?”

 

Severus just about refrained from groaning out loud, but did allow himself a slightly petulant, “Because the questions this time will be _so_ much more original than the usual dross.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Hermione sympathised while returning her book to the shelf. “If I hear one more question on what the _Chosen One_ is looking for in a girlfriend I’ll scream. Or hex someone,” she added contemplatively, making a mental list of the best hexes to use in such circumstances. “They never seem to get the message that he’s only interested in Ginny. Or ask me about anything I’d actually be interested in talking about like the warding system we used to keep ourselves hidden.”

 

“Are we waiting for anyone else?” Severus asked, looking at the wall chart detailing everyone’s appointments, “Ah, no. Mr William Weasley is the third of the Order. I assume he will meet us there.”

 

“Oh good, I haven’t had a chance to catch up with Bill in ages. I wonder how Victoire is doing?”

 

“I neither know, nor do I care,” he snapped, his good mood from the morning swiftly dissipating as he contemplated the afternoon ahead. “Now, come on, or we will be late.” Without waiting for her to join him he took a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fire, stating, “Ministry of Magic” as he did, and disappeared into the green flames.

 

Hermione allowed herself a fond smile - she had fully expected him to be just as acerbic to her now as before she’d slept with him, and she was right.

 

“It’s nice to know that some things never change,” she said out loud, grabbing some floo powder and following him through the fireplace.  

 

oOo

The afternoon was as enthralling as they had all feared. It was a hot day and the last thing anyone really wanted was to be stuck in a stuffy room in the ministry for the afternoon. There had been a brain-meltingly dull and lengthy introduction by Kingsley, during which Hermione and Bill had communicated via notes they magically sent to each other on the parchment thoughtfully provided for them on the top table. Severus, a teacher to the core, had tutted and refused to respond when they tried to include him in their game of hangman. If anyone caught him sending illicit notes he knew he would lose any ability to crack down on such behaviour in his classroom for the foreseeable future. Still, he looked on with thinly disguised envy as the two other panel members appeared to have as good a time as was possible given where they were.

 

The questions asked were as asinine as expected and even Bill, the measure of good humour, was showing signs of strain by the end of it. Shacklebolt did his best to deflect the worst of them on to himself, but everyone wanted to hear from the romantic heroes of the day - the dashing spy and the courageous young heroine. Even Bill found himself the figure of amorous fantasies thanks to his visible battle scars and beautiful wife. Snape got through it by seeing how short an answer he could give. His all time winner had been silenced mid-question by an eyebrow raise. Alas the day’s attendees were too self absorbed to stop in the face of his obvious disapproval and he was forced to vocalise his put-downs.    

 

He could see that Miss Granger was becoming visibly unhappy as the questions continued and became more and more intrusive into the private lives of herself and Misters Weasley and Potter. Eventually he could see she was about to snap so when the next question was a thinly veiled insinuation that the three of them had spent the previous year shacked up in the tent in some kind of lewd _menage a trois_ he took it upon himself to answer.

 

His response was dripping with acid as he went for the kill and chose the most socially unacceptable accusation. Severus not only questioned the morals and sexual inclinations of the gentleman posing the question when it was well known that at least one of the trio had been underage for part of the trip, but also that he had some kind of voyeuristic disorder which clearly needed treatment either by psychologist or potion. By the end of his put-down the gentleman was visibly cowering and managed a stuttered apology to Miss Granger before sitting down again shame-faced.

 

Thankfully this broke the mood of the event and the rest of the questions were reasonably sensible and quickly answered.     Even so it was a long and tedious afternoon and they were all glad when it finally ended.

 

oOo

It was gone seven when they got back home and both the witch and the Professor were tetchy from sitting in a hot and noisy room for too long, not to mention hungry. After bidding Bill goodbye at the floo Kingsley had joined them with the excuse that he wanted to catch up with Minerva. That he was there over dinner was purely coincidental, of course, he’d whispered to Hermione with a wink. Thankfully the residents were already round the dinner table and space was quickly made for the three of them and plates filled. It was Poppy’s turn to cook and she’d made spaghetti and meatballs with green salad and garlic bread. Everyone at the table complimented her loudly as they ate, enjoying the change from the standard fare of meat-and-two-veg.

 

The chatter was loud and raucous, as always, and Hermione found herself relaxing as she sat down and sipped at a glass of wine. She’d found a chair between Ginny and Poppy and joined in the conversations around her with an easy mind. The meet and greet had been unpleasant but she’d got through it without causing anyone an injury which she thought was something of a bonus. As was when the Professor had spoken on her behalf. Now that had been most gratifying… she never really knew how to defend herself against such personal slurs, and his response had been truly masterful. She was twirling a piece of spaghetti around her fork idly, thinking back to the previous night and where the Professor had also been _masterful_ when Ginny elbowed her.

 

“Who is it?” She whispered.

 

Hermione looked blank, “Who is what?”

 

“Who is it that put that smile on your face,” Ginny nudged her again with a grin and teased, “Someone definitely got lucky.”

 

Hermione could feel the flush rising on her cheeks. She desperately wanted to share the fun she’d had with Ginny but got the feeling that Snape wouldn’t approve, so she kept quiet for the time being. “I don’t know what you mean,” she replied primly, “I was just thinking about how I’m going to transfigure my dress for the ball on Thursday. What do you think about primrose yellow for a change?”

 

Ginny immediately launched into a dizzying set of instructions for how Hermione should dress in order to look her best. Hermione did her best to listen as Ginny had excellent taste and wouldn’t suggest something inappropriate, but she’d really only brought up the topic as it was a sure fire way to distract the red head. It had worked though and she felt relieved. She didn’t want to lie to her but she wasn’t quite ready to share either.

 

Severus watched the two giggling girls from his seat at the other end of the table with a scowl. He wasn’t close enough to hear what they were saying but it was clearly confidential given all the whispering and giggling going on. He despised girly whispering, never having quite shaken off the teenage fear of being the brunt of it. This time he had a pretty good chance of it being about him again, which was exceedingly unpleasant news.

 

‘ _Should have made her promise not to tell anyone about our arrangement,’_ he thought with another scowl at Miss Granger. ‘ _Its not that we are doing anything wrong but I’d rather keep it between ourselves.’_

 

He was debating how he could subtly tell the witch to shut up when Ginny waved her wand and an image of a dress on a miniature fashion doll appeared between them spinning in slow circles. The dress was outrageously short, figure hugging and bright yellow. Hermione shrieked and changed it to knee length and a soft buttery colour with a flick of her wand and the two of them giggled again. Severus watched with bemusement as the doll’s dress flashed through a series of colours and styles as the two witches competed to get their ideas on view.

 

‘ _Ah. Not talking about me after all,’_ he thought with some relief and a touch of embarrassment at having jumped to conclusions, glad he hadn’t got as far as making a fuss. He was about to look away and involve himself in the conversation at his end of the table when Miss Grange glanced up and caught his eye. She gave him a warm smile before flicking her wand at the doll, which was suddenly clad in a severe black dress with a high collar and long sleeves to outraged splutters from Miss Weasley. He knew she was gently mocking him but it was in good humour so he merely rolled his eyes at her while she giggled before she changed the doll yet again into another yellow creation. Raising an eyebrow at him she looked expectantly.

 

‘ _Is she waiting for my approval? Surely she can’t expect me to have an opinion on it?’_ Severus was somewhat bemused, ‘ _Although I suppose I will be the one spending the most time looking at it…’_ he examined it in more detail as covertly as he could before waving his own wand under the table, changing the back to dip lower with a line of tiny buttons down to the base of the spine and adjusting the colour a couple of shades lighter towards a rich cream.

 

He watched with thinly veiled amusement as the little Gyrffindor gave the doll a once-over before inviting Miss Weasley to do the same. It was loudly declared to be the winning look by the red-head and his witch flashed him a quick grin, her eyes dancing with mirth at having discovered his hitherto unknown design skills. He allowed her a slight softening of his own eyes in acknowledgement before resolutely concentrating on the discussion around him. ‘ _Enough frivolities for one night.’_

oOo

It wasn’t long before the group broke up. Dinner was over and everyone had things to do. The two girls were clearing the table and spelling the dishes to wash themselves while Harry and Neville swept the floor and put the leftovers in the pantry. Hermione didn’t notice when Professor Snape left and for a moment she felt a pang - she would have liked to wish him goodnight.

 

She took the stairs up to her room slowly, debating whether to detour to his. But she was tired and she ached after the long day, so in the end her own bed won out. To her surprise there was a small glass jar resting on her pillow. She picked it up and unscrewed the lid, sniffing the unguent within cautiously. It smelt faintly of menthol and eucalyptus. It was then that she spotted a folded square of parchment in between her bedcovers - it must have been on the pillow with the jar then slipped off. She opened it and read with a smile;

 

_Miss Granger,_

_This nerve repair cream should assist with the tremors. Use sparingly twice a day on affected joints. If it fails to have a discernible affect after 3 days please inform me and I will provide you with a stronger variant._

_S Snape_

Hermione cautiously dipped a finger in the jar and spread the cream over her right wrist which had been aching and shaking on and off all day, thanks to overworking it at the castle. At first it tingled, then her whole wrist went icy cold before gradually returning to normal. She twisted her hand experimentally and found that there was still pain but it had lessened considerably and there was now a numbing sensation instead. She grinned broadly at the result - finally something that would help.   It appeared she had yet another thing to be grateful to her Professor for that day.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments - it's great to know people are reading and enjoying this. Apologies once again for the exceedingly slow updates, but I'm hoping to get another couple of chapters out this month before my workload hots up again.


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